


The Highest Heights

by thelyricalarcanist



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, First Time, M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Post-Canon, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelyricalarcanist/pseuds/thelyricalarcanist
Summary: Cid Highwind should have been satisfied. He'd saved the world, twice, and flown his own rocket ship into the depths of space. It wasn't enough, there was still one thing he wanted. Too bad obtaining it would be his most difficult endeavor yet. A matter that would involve not only his strength of will but also his heart. Could he make that same daring reach once more even if it risked scaring away his closest friend?
Relationships: Cid Highwind/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 18
Kudos: 136





	The Highest Heights

**Author's Note:**

> The Remake is absolutely wonderful and dominating my quarantined life currently. However, I'm missing my favorite pilot and gunman duo something fierce. Thus this fic was born. It was originally intended as a short little fix-it one shot that somehow morphed into a 25,000 word monster with around 7,000 of those words devoted to smut. Whoops.
> 
> This is set directly after the events of Advent Children and is canon compliant up until that point. Although my own party decisions at key points of the plot are briefly referenced. Also gratuitous liberty has been taken with the Shera's layout and the hinted at Highwind mutiny prior to the escape from Junon.
> 
> I know nothing about airship mechanics, please forgive any glaring inaccuracies.

It was funny, moments like these. Here he was, an old man, sitting and staring at the stars above Midgar like he once did as a wonderstruck child. Just as hypnotized by their other-worldly and enigmatic beauty as he was back then. All those years ago. He wasn’t young any more, but moments like these made him feel like he was. He had been there, up in those stars. Had unraveled a little bit of that mystery, yet still they continued to steal his breath every time he looked up at them. The vastness of space, its incomprehensible nature, was like trying to lift the skirt of a cosmic deity only to find that the very fabric of reality was unending. Endless folds hiding her coveted center. It was as comforting as it was terrifying. He would never have the answers. They were as limitless as the stars themselves.

It was funny, sitting and staring at the stars like a naïve child when these days Cid Highwind was anything but innocent. Here he was polluting the air with arsenic and burnt tobacco, six whiskeys in and loose as a kite in the sky. Still drinkin,’ of course. Passing a bottle of the Turk’s finest honey wine back and forth with a rather fine Ex-Turk himself, one who kept eying him slyly from beneath a fringe of tangled black silk. Vincent was trying to be sneaky about it but Cid had always been able to feel those eyes on him. Vibrant red and unnatural, burning just as hot. They had a quality of the uncanny about them but then again nothing about Vincent Valentine was really normal.

Two half-drunk adults, who had just saved the world again, sitting on top of the Seventh Heaven like a pair of lovestruck teens exchanging declarations of adoration. Cid chuckled to himself indulgently. He wondered what Vincent would do if he asked him to be his Valentine? Probably put a bullet between his eyes and leave him up here to bleed out beneath the sky.

“What do find so funny, Highwind? I was under the impression that you wanted to talk. It seemed serious enough when you approached me inside but since we’ve been up here you haven’t said a single word.” Ruby eyes narrowed and it seemed that teasing may not be the only way Cid could earn himself a quick death. 

Still he was impressed, he hadn’t heard the man string together that many words at once in weeks. Two reasons for that; he hadn’t seen him for one and the man wasn’t particularly wordy for the other. Didn’t know he was even capable of compound sentences and would have said so but, as mentioned before, quick death and all that. He had enough wherewithal to know that it wasn’t smart teasing a man with a gun, and while he could be a bit of a dumbass from time to time he certainly wasn’t suicidal. Must have struck a chord already though, most likely a nerve, to get that long response. He always did have a way of getting a rise out of the Ex-Turk. Did he want to push it even further? See just how many words he could get the gunman to string together and try for a new record? Nah, he’d stick to the point. He’d put off this conversation long enough.

“Remember that time there was a Meteor falling towards the Planet, a psycho Ex-Soldier threatening to absorb its power and become God, and an ancient Weapon reeking absolute fuckin’ havoc on everything in between?” Okay, that wasn’t directly to the point but he’d get there, he’d get there. One day, once he stopped being a damn coward.

“Yes. I remember.” There was a sigh of utter resignation that followed the gunman’s words. Like he already had an idea of how long it would take the pilot to get to the point.

“Remember when we took off in Shinra No. 26? Best moment of my life that, well second best actually but we’ll get to that in moment.” Cid cleared his throat anxiously. “You and Cloud on board with me, both terrified. I could hear your teeth chattering, and don’t you dare try to deny it Valentine. It may not have destroyed Meteor, the whole thing may have been a goddamn bust but I did it. I went to space. I touched the places only stars go. Looking up at them like this always reminds me of a time when that was all just a fever dream of a child with his head in the clouds.” Cid ran a couple of fingers through his hair, awkwardly, and took a long drag of his cigarette. Well, he hadn’t meant to take it that far.

“How could I forget?” Vincent whispered, and maybe he imagined it but he wanted to believe in the fondness he heard in that voice. It was confirmed when he looked over to find Vincent Valentine himself, death incarnate and possessed by demons, also staring wistfully up at the stars. Cid felt his heart swell far past its limitations, flying out from his body and into space. He wanted to be the place where those eyes found purchase, where they imagined realities and captured dreams. The end and the beginning of everything. 

“Remember when Cloud found out he was a clone and went crazy? Stole the Black Materia from Red XIII and kick started the apocalypse? I had no idea what I was getting into, joining you bunch of freaks. That really got me caught up real quick. Then we got captured by Shinra and had to steal back my ship. My sweet, sweet Highwind.” The pilot found himself chuckling again. 

“Get to your point.” The wistfulness was gone. Vincent gave him a look that said he not only remembered that whole situation but he also remembered way back to that part of Turk training where they taught them how to eviscerate a man in the most painful way possible. “I imagine you didn’t drag me up here just to reminisce.”

“Well, you see…” Cid scratched nervously at his scalp again. Suddenly aware of his thinning hair as he sat next to this ageless being. One with waves of black hair that gleamed like it was lit by a hundred stars, red eyes that smoldered like the burning eclipse of Meteor itself, and pale skin that glowed in the light of the moon. Ancients-be-damned, when did he sell off his dignity to find solace in poetry? Staring at these stars must have addled his brain, he really was reverting back to a hopeless teenager. And who was he kidding? There was no way he could possibly be worthy, yet if he was anything it was stubborn. He had reached for one set of stars and he would have the tenacity to reach for another. Go to rest with no regrets, that’s what his pa had always said right?

“That was the best moment of my life.”

“What?” It was the most intonation he had ever heard in that voice, as Vincent sat up further on his forearms to stare at him, incredulous. Cid felt a rush of pride at garnering such an immediate response. He really did have a gift.

“Not the part about Cloud, idiot. That day we took back the Highwind. I hadn’t thought I’d ever see her again, much less fly her. That was the best goddamn day in my life.” Cid put out his cigarette on a roof tile and stared down at his stained and callused hands. “It was more than the Highwind though. I knew that day I had found my friends. I knew in that moment that I needed to save Tifa, Barrett, and even though I had no idea how, Cloud. I had a purpose again, after the stars had been stolen from me. My favorite moment though was later, after the mutiny had begun. I had let out the others, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. You kinda gave me the willies at the time but I kept telling myself ‘Cid, no one gets left behind. Not when you’re in charge.’ I was panicked but I tried my hardest not to let my crew know I was losing my cool. Then one of those Shinra fucks tried to shoot me and I turned ready to face my death and there you were. Like retribution and fury incarnate. Those goons didn’t stand a chance. After seeing you I felt like I could finally breathe, and it wasn’t just because you saved my life. You’re special to me Val….” Cid trailed off the words getting caught in his throat. Maybe his courage only went so far.

Vincent didn’t say a word but he watched him with wide eyes. It was the first time he felt like he saw them fully. Glowing akin to the Mako-illuminated eyes of Shinra’s Soldiers but inverted. Naked and red. Undisguised by a furrowed brow, a red bandana, or the strands of impossible hair as the wind caressing the rooftop blew two of the three back. No, it was the second time he had seen them so unguarded. It reminded him so much of the memory of that first time, the very memory he had just referenced and was already on his mind, that he felt himself falling into it once more.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was over. They were well and fucked. After that disaster in the Northern Crater they had been captured by Shinra, all in shackles and placed in holding on the Highwind. It added insult to injury that he would be held prisoner on his own goddamn ship. Stuck behind bars while his fingers itched to press into familiar dials and pull on those shiny new levers. It was nice to see her still, in one piece and smelling like jet fuel and iron. She shouldn’t be used like this by such villains and he hated to see her manhandled by the ill-equipped. There was nothing he could do like this, bound and shoved into the small Chocobo stable space. They all were, all except Barrett and Tifa. Those two had been taken by Scarlet and Heidegger for a ‘public demonstration.’ He feared the worst was on its way to them. There had to be something he could do. He wracked his brain for a plan but it was overwhelmed by the literal dozen problems he had right now.

The Meteor, Reunion, Jenova, Sephiroth, Weapon, Shinra, and the list went on and on further still. It was all so far past his pay grade that it seemed impossible that he would be here with the fate of the world in his hands. Without their fearless leader, was he their last hope? Cloud was; hell some sort of clone? Certainly out of the picture now. The poor kid seemed half out of his mind when the Lifestream swept him up. No guarantee he’d ever claw his way back to the surface. No, Cid couldn’t dwell on that now. Despair would get him nowhere. He needed to trust in Cloud’s resolve, that spikey haired kid was tough, he’d fight his way back. He had to believe in that.

Cid shook his head, hoping the motion would somehow shake some order into his muddled thoughts. He needed to think, he needed a plan. He needed a smoke but doubted they would provide him such a luxury. Fine, it really was time to take matters into his own hands. Leave it to a nicotine addiction to light a match under his ass and finally get the rusty cogs of his mind turning.

This was his ship and he knew it better than anyone. This was his crew and they had to know they were being cheated. Cheated out of the true experience of flying the Highwind under a competent pilot. This was no way to run a ship, she should be singing underneath them but instead she was groaning. 

Suddenly Cid had his plan. He just needed to wait until the next meal delivery. That’s when he’d spring his trap, act like he was doing them a favor and buy himself some time with his former crew. They’d listen to reason if he just had the chance to get them alone.

The next time the Shinra grunts stumbled into the chamber, however, it wasn’t to give them food. They had a different goal in mind when they burst through the stable’s doors. 

“You, Valentine, we need you to come with us.” A veritable child of a guard with the barest hint of stubble finally breaching the skin of his neck motioned towards their quiet companion with a wave. “Now.” It must have been hard, trying to sound commanding before his balls had even dropped. Cid fought back the urge to sneer at him, he needed this guy on his side.

“What do you need him for?” Yuffie challenged from where she was curled on the floor, more venom in her mouth than this boy even despite the hours she had spent puking her brains out.

“Hojo wants him, asked for him specifically.” The child-soldier grunted, pointing a finger at the gunman. Vincent Valentine, whose skin was already the color of untarnished cream, paled further and Cid heard his jaw click shut with the finality of one of his gunshots. Like this boy was judge and executioner both the Ex-Turk walked stiffly towards him, eyes heavy with an emotion as grim as the one a condemned man wore on his way the block. He never really looked happy but that expression was just drastic enough to be a new one. Okay that was moving towards the top of his list. First get the hell out of this stable and free from his chains, second get Vincent away from these devils, third save the world. Easy enough. Cid swore under his breath.

Red XIII growled. “You leave him here with us!”

The boy ignored him as he tugged Vincent away by his manacles. They had to be tight, the left side only barely fit around the metal of his gauntlet. Red roared in anger, hunkering down into a springing posture. Cid tapped him with a foot and shook his head in a discouraging manner.

He wished he could tell Cosmo Canyon’s guardian to cool it and it let him handle this but he didn’t have time to explain. Plus he doubted the creature would listen. Cid knew that their furry companion had suffered terribly at Hojo’s hands but Vincent’s past was more mysterious. That reaction he had told no lies though and neither did his whispered conversations with Red in the dead of night. Cid had tried not to eavesdrop but he was curious, so shoot him. When this was all said and done Cid would get the full story out of him, from the Ex-Turk’s own lips, for better or worse. 

He had gotten rather close with the quiet gunman over the last few weeks. Or it felt that way to him at least but Vincent was nearly impossible to read. At once both the assassin and the martyr. Sometimes he filled the room, a terrifying presence with his demonic transformations and deadly accuracy whereas other times he would be silently vacant. Like he wasn’t even there. So lost in his own past tragedies to contribute to the group. As two of the last members to join the party they often shared rooms at inns and watches together. The later was the best, Cid smoking up a storm while Vincent silently contemplated the world. There was something that Cid found calming about his presence; he’d even let Cid just talk at him when he was aggravated. Which was most of the time. The Ex-Turk would nod at appropriate times and sometimes offer up a vague half sentence of advice to follow his rants. Cid found it stupidly endearing. Then there were the fights, Cid would fling himself into the fray with the reckless abandon of a barbarian. Vincent, on the other hand, was a cold calculated killer. His bullets finding their mark with the keen accuracy of a genius. When it came to having his back he trusted no one more. So doing this without the gunman at his side was going to complicate things but for now he needed to let Vincent go, this was his best opening. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

Time to try his luck.

“Did you hear that? When we landed earlier? The jet engines are all fucked. That’s why my sweet Highwind’s singing that sad-as-shit swan song. I hope you ain’t plannin’ on bringing us anywhere else with her like this.” Cid grated, the picture of bitter confidence, walking up to the two grunts that had previously been behind the young one before he walked away with Vincent in tow. He grimaced for effect. “She won’t make it through another trip in this sorry state.”

“You’ll be coming with us to Midgar tomorrow for further questioning before execution. We have mechanics on board. Shinra certified. The best of the best. The ship is fine.” The left one replied, but her voice had the waver of someone who was bullshitting and knew it.

“Yeah? That why my baby’s crying? Cause some green as hell mechanics think a certificate makes them special?” Fools like these three really made him mad, so the confidence he needed to bully his way through this was easy enough to summon.

Her mouth formed a tense line and Cid knew he had her. There was no way she hadn’t noticed it when they were flying earlier. All that shaking and noise. “Fine. You get five minutes to diagnose the issue and instruct our techs on how to fix it. You touch nothing.”

“Atta girl.” Cid released a relieved burst of air. He wasn’t lying, he really was terrified of flying anywhere with his lady like this.

Down the hall the boy was leading a bound Vincent away and up the staircase toward the main deck. Valentine cast inquisitive look back at Cid, a lifted brow and a flash of his eyes. The man’s face was half of a ghostly pale crescent against the dark steel interior of the Highwind. His demeanor was still stiff but those piercing eyes locked on to his with laser precision. Did he know Cid was up to something? Probably, but to reinforce the fact Cid winked. The gunman needed some hope, Cid was afraid that if he got any paler he might actually disappear.

Steeling himself with a swallow Cid walked up to the Bridge and allowed the two grunts, Soldiers of some lower ranking he determined, to open the door and usher him inside. He was met with a glare or two from some of the Shinra guards and execs manning the maps and figures but he didn’t waver as he strolled in through the doorway. Nervous excitement began to spread through his core as he saw familiar faces, the members of his former crew who hadn’t seen him dragged in like a dog after he was captured, that jumped in shock at his appearance. 

“Captain Highwind!” His rookie Flight Engineer called, forgetting himself, before clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Hey, yeah it’s me.” Cid fought the urge to scratch his head, his hands were bound and wouldn’t that make for a sorry sight? This was frigging embarrassing. Some captain he was, dirty and in shackles. “Let’s go take a look at those jet engines, rookie. I thought I told you to keep them lifted during cleaning you great buffoon.”

Despite Cid’s utter lack of self-confidence the Flight Engineer still snapped a sharp salute and began to make his way over. “I’m so sorry Chief, I haven’t been given the time to do proper maintenance.”

“Don’t be givin’ me those excuses-”

“What exactly is the meaning of this?” A man in a crisp three piece suit, probably a damn Turk though an unfamiliar one, cut Cid off with a sneer. “Why is this prisoner out and giving orders?”

“He’s going to instruct the others on how to fix the ship, Sir. There’s a problem with the jet engines.” The female guard commented from where she had followed Cid in. He could feel the cold press of her gun to his back. Smart lady, this one. 

“Fine but he is to get it done quickly and return to the holding chamber.” The Turk sighed and the four unfamiliar techs that had been fucking with the controls like a bunch of idiots sprang to attention and turned towards Cid. Stupid Shinra goons. He wasn’t letting them come with. How dare they think they could see his lady’s inner workings? Not on his watch, plus if they came with the plan was tanked. 

“Begging your pardon Sir,” Cid spat the word like a curse, “but this will all go a lot faster if you let me bring my old crew. The five of us is all I need.”

The Turk sighed as if there was no way he could avoid being bothered by all this but a job was a job. “The prisoner can bring who he wishes but I want guards with him at all times.”

“Sir.” Agreed the guard behind Cid and her companion as Cid bit back his own retort for that shit that refused to even acknowledge his presence. His mouth still dropped open a bit in shock when the female guard undid one of his shackles. “Don’t touch anything.” She repeated firmly, watching him carefully.

Cid winked at her and gave a thumbs up.

They walked back out to the Machinery Room and towards the hatch that would get him access to the engines. Cid let his free hand trail across the thin metal of railways and the steel paneling that lined the walls. He let a wistful smile cross his face that dropped when he heard it. Somewhere in the distance there was a low howl of pain. Both of the guards whipped their heads around and towards the stairs that led to the main deck.

That had better not be Valentine or screw the plan, heads were going to roll. He needed to work quickly now, even more so than he had before.

Taking advantage of the guards’ distraction as they turned towards the noise he whispered to the gathered members of his old crew. Members that Shinra had let him handpick back when he worked for the electric company as an aeronautical engineer. “This is what you do now? Mistreat my ship and cart around Heidegger and that Turk asshole?”

“Sorry Chief, you were gone and we weren’t given much of an option. They told us you failed, that the Shinra No. 26 project was a complete disaster, and you were all washed up.” His First Officer replied, a nervous man who really didn’t need to be. He was a decent, if not overly enthusiastic, pilot.

“Washed up?!” Cid screeched then flinched when he saw the noise had bought back the attention of the two guards. Quickly he hissed one last plea to his former crew, once the Soldiers were back it would be too late. “You say you had no option? There’s always another option and that option is here now.”

“I thought I said no talking.” The female guard warned as they made their way back over.

“No Chief. It’s too risky. There’s too many of them.” The First Officer whispered back before they sprung apart at the arrival of the guards. There was none of the typical hesitation in his voice and that’s when Cid knew he had lost him. His plan had failed.

The guards escorted them into the engine room and there was no more time to talk. To bargain. Cid felt the frustration seep into his old bones, exhaustion slumping him. It couldn’t be over. Not like this. Without any spirit left to animate him he diligently instructed the crew members on how to fix the issue. Sparing the last of his rebellious spirit to press a gentle kiss to the edge of one of the Highwind’s forward thrusters as tears pricked the edges of his eyes. She’d be vaporized along with the rest of them when Meteor hit. And it would hit. Without Aerith, Cloud, Tifa, Barrett, Red XIII, Cait Sith, Yuffie, and Vincent to stop it. They had already lost Aerith and now Cloud. He had been a fool to think that he could somehow salvage this and save the rest of them, save everything. He hadn’t even been able to fulfill his own dreams. His First Officer was right. He was washed up. The king of failure. Who was he kidding thinking he could save the world?

Shinra wouldn’t be able to stop it. They could try, he knew they had plans to but if he knew anything about Shinra it was this; that despite being the leaders of the fuel industry they were hopelessly incompetent at just about everything else.

In the distance he caught haughty words, ones that he only half paid attention to until their meaning struck him. “Pah. That looked easy, doesn’t take much to be a mechanic. What a stupid career.” Mocked the female guard’s companion. He kicked the side of one of the jet engines with menace leaving a dent the size of a medium-grade steel-toed combat boot. “There, did I fix it?”

Cid felt boiling hot rage burn up his throat and flood his limbs. He would dismantle this kid from the bottom up. With a growl he moved to clobber the guard, one bound hand or not, but someone beat him there. Four someones, actually.

His First Officer and Flight Engineer jumped on the guard that kicked the engine with a wail. Further down from them his Second and Third Officers disarmed and subdued the other. Cid stood back watching in shocked silence as his timid and generally terrified crew mutinied right before his eyes. They made a surprisingly effective team, knocking both guards out with efficiency. He felt hope swell again in his heart, even if he wished they had been a little quieter about it. Hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

He went to tell them as much when he heard it again, that low groan of pain. Like a wild beast struggling to stay alive despite a mortal wound. “Valentine!” He shouted, searching the engine room in a rushed panic despite the fact that the voice still sounded so far away.

“I think it’s coming from the main deck Chief.” His First Officer ran over, panting, with a set of keys. He used them to free Cid’s second hand.

“Yeah, yeah I think you’re right. I need to get up there now. But first I need my weapon, where’d they stash our stuff?”

“Operations Room. It should all be in there.” The Flight Engineer spoke up from where he was grabbing guns and a couple of clubs off of the unconscious bodies of the two guards. “We’ll use these.” He tossed the second gun to the First Officer and the clubs to the Second and Third.

Cid grinned, he was so damn proud of them. “What changed?” He asked with the barest hint of hesitation in his voice.

“No one cares about the Highwind more than you, Captain. We all saw how you looked at her, touched her. Those thugs had no right mistreating her like that. You were right. We never should have questioned you.” His First Officer spoke strongly, albeit, nervously. “We aren’t much for fighters but we’re with you until the end of this.”

“Damn straight.” Cid replied gruffly, emotion choking him. Then he let a little of that old authority back into his voice again once he was ready. “Alright rookies the plan is this: you all are going to help me get back our weapons and then we’re gonna spring my friends. After that we take the Bridge but before we do that we’re getting Vincent from the main deck. I ain’t going into this without my sniper. No way. That clear?”

“Crystal, Chief.” They all saluted.

It didn’t take much to break into the Operations Room, the man waiting on the inside was one of Cid’s too. It took no convincing to get him to join and he clapped Cid warmly on the shoulder with a ‘Welcome back Captain’ as he handed him his spear. The long hilt a comforting weight in Cid’s hands. It took even less time to break into the Chocobo Storage room, with the guards already disabled and the keys acquired. His friends cheered at his entrance, ready to race out and face their next foe.

“We have to get Vincent. I’m worried about what might happen if Hojo gets his hands on him again.” Red XIII’s tail swiped an anxious rhythm against the ground.

“Again?” Cait Sith questioned. “Well that explains a lot.”

“Shut it spy.” Seethed Cid, feeling surprisingly defensive of the Ex-Turk. “Red’s right. We’re getting Vincent first, then we’re gonna make sure these Shinra scumbags rue the day they ever laid their greasy paws on my Highwind.”

They raced their way up the stairs and out the door to the main deck only to find it disturbingly empty. The back drop of the militant city of Junon dreary and grey in the distance. A blistering wind whipped its way across the flat steel flooring, twisting and blustering through Cid’s hair. In the distance he saw a blue bit of fabric wave with its dance. He ran up to find the body of the boy-guard lying just behind one of the turbines. The corpse was littered with gruesome cuts, eviscerated. Cid grimaced, Vincent was nowhere to be found. He had a theory that when they did find him Vincent Valentine might not be himself anymore.

“Shit.” Well this didn’t change anything except the order of things, he still knew what needed to be done. They just had to be more careful. “Okay. New plan, I need you all to go into Junon and find Tifa and Barrett. We can’t let Heidegger and Scarlet hurt them. Cait Sith do you think you can get them in?”

“Of course I can!” The puppet jumped into the air with a flourish. “Just follow me chaps!”

“Be careful, and if you see Vincent do not engage. I think there’s a good chance he’s transformed. I’ll deal with that when we’ve found him. Once you’ve gotten Tifa and Barrett out of there get your asses back here and we’ll race out of here in the Highwind. Free as birds.” Cid gave them an encouraging grin.

“Great. More flying.” Yuffie slumped at the idea but allowed the others to coerce her down to the airport’s tarmac runway with the promise of fighting the bad guys.

With that settled Cid turned to his flight crew. “Alright, I’m not feeling great about this without a good shot among us but let’s go take back my goddamn ship.”

After a hasty and disconcertingly tense cheer they made their way back into the Machine Room. As they crossed the metal walkway to the Bridge he could have sworn he heard the steady rattle of ragged breaths beneath the grated metal but when Cid looked down he saw nothing but piping and shadows. “Val?” He questioned but the depths below offered him no response and the noise ceased shortly thereafter.

He shook his head and made his way to the Bridge’s door, giving his crew one last nod before they barged in. He had been hoping to catch the techs and guards stationed there by surprise but instead found them alert and ready as he kicked in the door. A fight broke out immediately, the newer Shinra techs springing on him instantly. They must have heard them break the others out, they must have been prepared. Cid swore violently as they were terribly outnumbered, he had miscalculated.

The two grunts that fell upon him were as green as grass in the summertime but still formidable. He swung a wide arch towards the gut of one, spinning his spear to hit the other over the head a second later with a devastating thwack. He could see his Officers and Engineer engaged on other parts of the deck but where was the Turk? That sleazy suit-wearing bastard had to be somewhere. There! He caught a glimpse of the fucker as he darted towards the Machine Room doors, making a break for it. The bloody coward. Just as Cid went to pursue him two more guards flung themselves at him, one meeting him blow for blow with a long electrified club while the other tried desperately to behead him with her sword. A couple of swipes from the sword sneakily bit into the fabric of his jacket and cut into the skin of his shoulders. It was enough to slow his parries and he got an electrifying burst from the club directly into his stomach. Internally he began to panic, he just couldn’t catch a break and another hit from that club was likely to knock him out.

It took a surprisingly well aimed thrown bit of paneling from one of his Officers to stop the guard with the sword. The sharp bit of steel appeared out of nowhere to ping her straight in the forehead. Cid whooped in delight. Then, in a moment of inspiration, threw his spear directly at the guard in front of him. She dropped her club in shock and caught the spear looking surprised for a moment before realization dawned. Cid grinned bloodily as he swung a fist into her befuddled face. She dropped like a rock. Nothing worked better than bar-brawl tactics to confuse a Soldier.

From behind the now closed Machine Room door Cid heard the patter of gunfire and felt his heartbeat pick up. He grabbed his spear from the slumped guard and dashed to the door swinging it open to reveal the Turk. His arm was shaking but he still managed to keep a hold on the gleaming silver pistol aimed directly at Cid’s head. The was an awful gash along his off hand and Cid could hear that strange rattling breath once more, but he found himself unable to take his gaze off the cold steel of the barrel staring down the space between his eyes.

“Demons, all of you.” The Turk panted, sweat dripping from his forehead as his fingers squeezed the trigger. The sound of the gun blast rattled Cid’s eardrums, likely the last sound he’d ever hear.

Looking back, Cid would say he saw his life past behind his eyes in quick bursts of staccato technicolor. Both the good and the bad. He imagined he saw in that moment the time when he first took flight, his own father steering an old cargo hauler and grinning down at him. His mother always said they had that same toothy smile. He saw the failed Shinra No. 26 launch, he saw Rufus’ insincere frown as he told Cid that he was done, that they were going to pursue other pilots and different projects. That he didn’t have the skill to pull it off, that his dream of seeing the stars was dead. He saw his daring escape with Cloud and the gang on the Tiny Bronco, when he first met his friends. He saw the first time he made Vincent laugh, after he retold the story of how he had gotten kicked out of three separate bars in one evening. No one could resist at least a chuckle when he told that one. Still to receive such a soft unbidden laugh from the stoic gunman, who had seemed surprised himself when the sound came out of him, well that was just too good to be real.

It didn’t matter that he died, his plan had worked and the others would save the world. Yet he wished he had gotten a chance to fly again, he wished he had seen the stars up-close, and he wished he had saved Vincent.

Problem was, no one saved Vincent Valentine. 

A red cloaked specter pushed him bodily to the ground and his breath left him in a whoosh as the bullet flew by overhead missing him entirely. It found purchase in the Bridge’s doors, burying itself in the cold metal. Cid couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad.

That red tinged shadow dropped behind the Turk and he heard the grating hum of a chainsaw starting. One quick swing and a sharp intake of breath was all it took. The Turk was cloven in two by a spinning blade that cut through flesh like butter. Cid had seen this one before but that still didn’t make it any less terrifying. As Vincent stood to his towering full height in his Hellmasker form before him on the narrow walkway. Those familiar rattling breaths heaving from behind a cracked ski mask and a tangle of inky black hair.

Cid took a big gulping breath. It usually took some time for Vincent to change back and he seemed to have little control over himself in one of his forms. Typically they avoided him until he reverted back, curled in a ball and shaking like a leaf. Normally there was the space to. Afterwards Cid would be the first there to throw an arm over his shoulder and steer him away from the others to shake it out with a cup of hot tea.

This was his first time so close to one of Vincent’s personal demons. It pissed him off. So he hadn’t saved the Ex-Turk, in the end Vincent had done all the saving. His usual bent towards self-sacrifice was becoming a real pain in Cid’s ass. The pilot’s legs trembled underneath him as he stared down the beast but _dammit_ he had something he needed to say! Something that had been on his mind since he almost died only mere moments ago. He wouldn’t let this giant growling monster dissuade him, if he couldn’t save the man from danger maybe it was time to try something new. 

Maybe he needed to save him from himself.

“It’s okay Valentine. It’s just me.” Cid dropped his spear to the ground and held his arms outstretched. “I’m not gonna hurt you. And…” He took a quick steadying breath. “No one’s gonna hurt you again if I have any say in it.” It was sappy as hell and probably suicidal that he stood there, feeling rather naked without his weapon, before an unhinged creature of darkness but he meant it. Every word and gesture. Plus the creature had saved him earlier which had to mean Vincent was in there somewhere. Right?

The monster took a threatening step towards him then another, raising the whirling blade high and Cid’s stomach plummeted to his feet. Shit, what a way to die. He closed his eyes and braced himself for that cutting blow. It never came. It was when he heard a chocked cry and the sound of a body hitting the grated metal in front of him that he finally peeled his eyes back open. Only to see a slumped Vincent Valentine claw his way back up onto his hands and knees, panting heavily. His right, non-claw arm was clutching at his own chest and his eyes were ablaze as he glared at Cid. His clothing was in tatters, though his hair was about as disheveled as it normally was. He looked the picture of indignant fury and Cid took a reflexive step back, terrified. At least the mask and chainsaw were gone, a bullet was a far quicker death.

“You complete _idiot_. What were you thinking?” Vincent bit out between shuddering breaths before continuing in a far cooler tone. “Do you naturally have a death wish or do you simply lack the brain cells required for self-preservation?”

It was a lot of words. Cid was proud of them despite their connotation, he’d ignore the dig for the moment. He was just so happy right now, alive and sharing breath once more with his closest companion. How, after so short a time, had that become truth? It must have been that quiet laugh and those nights spent together; inevitably bringing them closer together despite the unlikelihood of their connection. He grinned down at the man, meeting his contemptuous stare with a sunny smile.

“Foolish.” Muttered the gunman, not breaking his glare.

“I’m glad you’re okay Val.”

“What’s…” The gunman shook his head and took in another gulping breath before shakily pulling himself to his feet. “What’s going on here?”

“A mutiny.” Cid walked over to help Vincent stand and handed him his gun from the Operations Room. Reveling in the way those ruby eyes widened at his words. “We’re taking back the Highwind. We’re saving Tifa and Barrett and then we’re goin’ after Cloud. We’re gonna save the world.” He couldn’t help the absolute ridiculousness of those words, so much more insane when spoken aloud but he believed them. Truly, he did. He also couldn’t help his own bark of laughter after the words had been spoken, he was just so goddamn happy.

The doors to the Bridge creaked open and the two of them whirled to face their next threat. Vincent’s gun already up and leveled towards the door. Cid went to raise his spear and was momentarily bereft as he didn’t have it in hand. Oh that’s right, he set in down to face Hellmasker. He stepped forward to feel for it and ended up stepping on its cylindrical surface, which spun under his foot and he tripped headfirst. He heard a long pained sigh behind him. Before he could fire off an irritated retort his First Officer and Flight Engineer burst through the opened door with their own weapons at the ready, they dropped them immediately at the sight of their pilot and Vincent. Cid fought to decide if he was relieved or mortified, during this internal debate he stepped back and on to his spear once more.

They all paused awkwardly and waited as Cid stumbled over to his spear which had spun down the walkway a few meters, cursing the entire way, only to scoop it off the ground and spin towards the gunman pointing it at him menacingly. “Warn a guy next time.”

Vincent raised one thin eyebrow at him, there was an amused light to his eyes that extended to the upwards tilt of his lips. Wait a minute that was new. Cid’s mouth dropped open in shock. It appeared as though the gunman hadn’t had time to fix his haphazard attire after his transformation, something he was usually so quick to do on normal occasions. This time he must have been too pissed about Cid’s rapid descent into suicidal madness to take the time. With his collar tugged down the amount of skin revealed seemed obscene compared to the Ex-Turk’s usual conservative attire. Cid almost felt like he needed to cover the man up in front of his crew like he was exposed in some indecent way. How dare they see the man like this upon their first meeting? It had taken months for Cid to get a glimpse!

Life just wasn’t fair sometimes.

“We cleared the Bridge, Chief. The Highwind is yours.” His First Officer reported, as he stood at stiff attention. Despite just having witnessed his captain floundering around like a drunken fool.

Cid had trouble tearing his eyes away from Vincent’s face. His whole freaking face. Especially as he watched those formerly mysterious lips form the word “chief” quizzically. Reluctantly he broke his gaze and tried his best to reclaim some semblance of his commanding presence with a frown. “Good work, now I want you to get my girl up and running. We need to be able to take off at a moment’s notice. There’s no telling what sort of enemies might be pursuing our friends once they get back here. Expect an expeditious retreat.”

“Aye, aye Chief.” They shouted in unison before rushing back in to the flight controls.

“And get the bodies of those goddamn Shinra goons off my ship! I don’t want them stinking her up any longer.” He called to their backs, getting another shout of affirmation in return.

He dropped the serious expression as he turned back to the gunman. “I got my baby back, and I’m gonna fly again.” It didn’t seem real, even as the words left him, and he felt himself laughing again as giddy as a child.

“Yes you are, Chief.” Vincent smiled at him then. Just a soft curl to his lips and a light in his eyes but it was like a double wallop that hit Cid in the gut harder than any club. With twice the electricity. It was in that moment that Cid realized two things; that he’d do absolutely anything to see that smile again and that with or without the high-collared cloak Vincent Valentine was hellishly beautiful. Cid could see all of his face and part of his neck for the first time ever but it was his eyes that hooked him like a slack jawed fish. Despite the fact that he could always see them, the one part of him that was never hidden. Large almond shaped and glowing. Red, red, red. Did Cid mention he had a favorite color that rhymed with bed? Ancients, he was going to need to be smoother than that to get this one in his bed.

Oh, was that what he wanted? Shit.

That smile was it, when Cid knew he was undoubtedly and irrevocably screwed.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Those feelings, he never got a chance to act on them. To speak them aloud. Cid realized, coming back to the present as he sat on the rooftop of Tifa’s rebuilt Seventh Heaven with the Ex-Turk by his side. There hadn’t been the time. They had to hunt down the Huge Materia, they had to recover Cloud. Then they had to stop Weapon, Shinra, Meteor, and Sephiroth. It would have been selfish for Cid to confess his feelings then. The only reminder of their connection outside the Highwind’s Bridge was Vincent’s sudden penchant for calling him ‘Chief’ from that point on. It was meant to be teasing, he was sure of it, but something about the nickname always served to make Cid’s pulse quicken and his palms to become sweaty. That and he never once forgot that face, that smile. Resolute in the belief that he would see it again. Somehow.

He had hoped to tell him after. Once it was all done and Sephiroth was destroyed, but he had been too chicken-shit to tell him right away and Vincent had disappeared slightly thereafter. Appearing only, as if clairvoyant, when the others were in need. He assisted the WRO in some of their more dangerous missions and had come to their aid once more now, in Midgar fighting off the remnants of Sephiroth. He was impossible to reach otherwise since he didn’t even have a freaking phone.

He had to do this now, before he lost his nerve and Vincent disappeared again like a ghost in the night. He was here now but closed off, in the space of a breath he had already turned away from Cid. His face hidden once more in the high collar of his cloak so only his bright eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible beneath the dusting of his dark bangs.

“Remember that time when the world was ending like an awful game of choose your own destruction? By a flaming sky rock? By an egotistical maniac with freaking superpowers? By an old-as-shit mechanical dragon? Yeah, I was scared then but I had my friends with me so it wasn’t so bad. It ain’t nothing compared to how scared I’ve been these past two years. Where have you been Valentine? And did you even think that your friends might want to know you’re alive? That it might be nice to check in? Did you even care?” Now that the words were leaving him in a torrent, he didn’t think he could stop. This really wasn’t what he had planned. Not even slightly. This was his anger pouring out, not his confession of love. He hadn’t even noticed how mad it had made him, but the anger at the Ex-Turk’s absence had been festering like a cancer deep inside his gut. 

“Cid, I-” Vincent tried to cut in but it was too late now.

“I went to Nibelheim. I walked my sorry ass all the way down to that locked room. I had to ask Cloud where it was and he looked at me with those sad-sappy eyes – it was fucking humiliating Val! I almost couldn’t go in, I was afraid of what I’d find inside. And you know what I found? Nothing. It was almost worse. At first I was relieved that you hadn’t gone back there to die or sleep, same thing really, but then the implications started making their way into my mind. I was so angry. Turns out a part of me had actually wanted to shake you violently out of that coma. I could handle you wallowing in your own depression but I couldn’t handle you not caring. It was selfish, I know, but really I have to understand. Do you even care about us at all?”

The words rang hollowly in the air. Vincent was as still as a statue, his face struck downward. Not saying anything at all. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go but he couldn’t stop. The power of his own loneliness these past two years hitting him with the heavy impact of a freight train.

Cid took a breath and filled in the silence. He couldn’t handle it, didn’t want to have the space to consider what the Ex-Turk’s lack of response meant. It was just too devastating. “Now I know you’ve been there for us when the goings gotten rough and we appreciate it and all but what about the other times? The good times. Like when Nanaki invited us to meet the rest of his pack? Or when Cloud and Tifa needed help caring for Denzel? Then there was Barrett’s birthday party for Marlene, pretty sure you would have been invited to that if we had a way to even contact you. Instead I got drunk by my own lonely self at the after party while the rest of them had each other. I kept looking for your damn red cloak, hoping by some miracle one of them had found a way to tell you. Each time the door opened and it wasn’t you I took another shot...I ended up passing out at the bar like the washed up old drunk I am.”

‘Too far, Captain.’ He warned himself as his throat constricted. Cid buried his head in his arms, suddenly mortified at how much he had revealed and too afraid to look to see the gunman’s response. There was a slight ruffling and he felt a gloved hand clasp his arm.

“Cid,” Vincent’s voice was hushed and shaky, “I’m sorry.”

Those words were horrifying to hear from his lips. The absolute last thing he wanted.

“I could fly through a thousand galaxies and live a thousand lifetimes and it would still be too soon to hear that from you again. Never again, Val. I don’t want to hear that from you, you don’t deserve it.” Cid mumbled into his arms, feeling suddenly like the worst piece of trash on the Planet.

“I- what do you mean?” Vincent’s voice was so genuinely confused that Cid found the courage to look at him again. The pained confusion in those red eyes, ones he could have written endless poetry about despite being a man of little literary education, giving him strength. 

“You’ve said that too many times. Taken the blame, the sin, and the punishment for so many things that you weren’t responsible for. I couldn’t possibly- it’s not fair to-” Cid found the words to truly explain his feelings escape him, then he remembered standing in a cave under a waterfall and seeing Vincent stare up at his past personified. Decades of pain written into the shadows of his eyes. Suddenly they were there. “If I had one more wish, now that I’ve been to space, it would to be make sure you never uttered those words ever again. Lucretia, Hojo, none of that was your fault. I know that, intrinsically, and I understand that you don’t. But I thought that maybe when we fought Hojo and you told him that it was him that should have slept in that box, him who should have been punished that you had finally realized it too. That you deserved better. That maybe this was your second chance, your chance to have a real life. One without regrets.” Then finally with a sigh that might have been relief or terror. “One with me.”

Vincent inhaled a sharp breath, his hand now clutching at Cid’s wrist like a lifeline. 

“But it was selfish of me to think it would be that easy. For you to just forget your old life, throw it away like rubbish and start anew. After all you’ve been through?” Cid laughed mercilessly. “To think you’d be free to just join me and help build the Shera, some old washed up pilot you had just met? I guess I’ve never grown up, my head’s still in the clouds. I shoulda never said what I just did, forgive me instead. Just don’t you ever tell me you’re sorry, okay?” 

Why was he so bad at this? Why did he have to go and ruin it all? It was just like what he did with Shera all those years ago. He was so bad at expressing emotion. It all came out as anger.

There was a pregnant pause, and Cid was afraid he had gone too far and that the gunman would run like he always did. Though, when Vincent did move away it wasn’t far. He released his death grip on Cid’s wrist and picked up the set aside bottle of wine, pilfered from Reno and Rude earlier in the night, and tipped about half of its contents down his throat. Wiping his mouth with his non-gauntleted arm haphazardly. It was an oddly messy motion for the normally composed mercenary.

“I’m allowed to apologize when I’ve been a terrible friend.” He mumbled afterwards, his voice thick with an unspoken emotion. Or maybe it was the absurd amount of liquor he had just consumed, it was hard to tell.

“It was more than that, I thought I didn’t deserve it. I think that was the cause of my absence more than anything.” Vincent sucked in a long breath, and Cid prepared himself for more than one sentence. More than one carefully crafted phrase. Had he cracked the code? He must have in his anger. This was his reward, as Vincent continued unhindered by his usual reservations. His words flowing like the stolen wine. “That you all relied on my talents during battle, I understood that at least. But why would you want me around during the happier times? I’m just a relic of the past. Static. Something to be passed by and forgotten. You all had lives to return to, people who loved you. Even you Cid, you had Shera and the crew. You’re hardly lonely. What did I have? A memory trapped in crystal and the ever present reminder that I failed everyone I once loved.” He swallowed before continuing, the agony in his eyes overwhelming. “Then there was the defeat of Sephiroth. That victory, though I understood its necessity, was very painful to me. It was hollow. I watched you all celebrate and I couldn’t possibly feel such exuberance. I was relieved, yes, but I had killed the son of the woman I had loved. To feel joy in that moment would have been unforgivable. I wanted to give you all the space to be happy, I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. You all deserved happiness. Especially you, Cid. You always took the extra effort to make sure I was included. When I was around you…it was the only time I didn’t feel like a burden. A dark shadow. But I couldn’t keep taking advantage of that. I didn’t want to keep holding you back.” Vincent took another quick swig before handing the bottle back to Cid who accepted it begrudgingly.

He stared down the neck with a reverent sort of sadness before setting it aside, he didn’t need it anymore. His words, his anger seeming limp and frivolous compared to Vincent’s confession. He had so many things he wanted to say but couldn’t give them words. The ones he needed caught in his throat, still he tried. “Never once did I think that Val. You’ve never been a burden or a shadow and you’ve never held me back. Far from it. You deserve happiness too. In fact, I can’t think of a single person that deserves happiness more than you.”

He needed to say more, somehow craft the perfect way of convincing Vincent that he was worth it. That he was loved by all of them. He scrambled, wishing he really was good at poetry, but the words still wouldn’t come.

A tense silence erupted between two of them that almost brought Cid to change his mind and grab that bottle back again. _Don’t leave, don’t leave_ , don’t leave. Echoing over and over again in his head. The mantra and the fear of it rendering him unable to act. To do something to ensure it wouldn’t happen. Just as the tension grew taut between them the sound of a window door slamming open caused both the pilot and the gunman jump in surprise.

“Hey yo! Lovebirds! Why don’t you come down and have some cake? Tifa baked it up special, so it better not go to waste!” Barrett called from the window to the upper floor before disappearing down the staircase.

“Wait, there’s cake?” Whispered Cid eagerly, his fear temporarily forgotten. “What’s the celebration? I feel like victories in battle don’t usually end with cake. That’s saved for special occasions.”

“Well, it is a special occasion.” Vincent replied enigmatically, rising from his formerly pensive seat as he offered Cid a hand up.

“Okay, I’m still in the dark here.” Cid replied, even more confused than he had been a moment ago. What occasion was there to celebrate other than Kadaj and the others being long gone and Sephiroth defeated, a secondary reunion stifled?

Vincent offered him no reply as he led him back down the staircase and into the main room of the Seventh Heaven. His familiar red cloak a beacon that Cid allowed to lead him back to civilization once more. 

On the main level of the Seventh Heaven a variety of folks, both friends and strangers alike, all sat gathered around the bar. Cid soaked up the familiar sight of neon lights and polished wood with a sigh. It didn’t take much: good friends, a quaint atmosphere, and half off drinks to firmly establish this as his second home. Cloud and Barret were sitting on barstools in companionable silence as Yuffie sat chatting amicably with Reeve. Nanaki stood near the foot of the staircase next to Tifa who was carrying something heavy on a platter. The bar’s owner held a beautiful multi-tiered cake with layers of chocolate ganache topped with succulent strawberries, she smiled as Vincent descended down the steps and swept back his cloak with a flourish to allow Cid to pass.

“Happy Birthday Cid!!” The group cheered.

Cid stood dumbfounded for a moment, it wasn’t his…oh wait that was tomorrow wasn’t it? Vincent gave him a quick glance as he swept past and over to a table in the corner. A pajama swathed Marlene ran to his side and grabbed one of Cid’ callused hands in her small soft palm.

“I’ll help you blow out the candles, there’s a lot of them.” She beseeched with her large brown eyes looking up at him.

“I’d be honored to have help from an expert such as yourself. Old men like me need help sometimes.” He confided with her.

She giggled infectiously and they followed Tifa and the cake over to a low table erected in the center of the bar. Cid counted down audibly from three and on the one both he and the girl blew with all their might, it was almost a perfect success but there was one candle that held steady despite the power of their lungs.

“Oh! Cid it looks like you only have one girlfriend. That’s good.” Marlene remarked earnestly.

“Or boyfriend.” Tifa corrected with a smile. “Either way is fine, we don’t judge do we sweetie?”

“Nope!” Marlene replied as she accepted the first plate of cake from Tifa after Cid declined it with a shake of his head.

“Go on up to bed right after your dessert, its late.” Tifa called to Marlene before she began dishing up more platters. Handing the second to Cid who hurried with his precious cargo in hand over to the table in the corner where Vincent had settled.

“I’m impressed you let the girl have hers first. I think you’ve become soft in your advanced years.” Vincent leaned on his one normal arm, an amused glint lighting his eyes.

Cid let the age comment slide with little more than annoyed grumble as he bit into his first forkful of cake. Vincent was older than him, so he was only insulting himself in the end right? His eyes slid shut and he let out a moan of pleasure at the first taste. Was it his imagination when Vincent shuffled awkwardly afterwards? Probably just a coincidence. 

“This is real pleasure. Actual heaven on a plate. You have to try some.”

“Not my cup of tea, sorry Chief.” Vincent chuckled, watching him from the other side of the booth. The gunman had been strict in his insistence during their travels that he didn’t have a sweet tooth. Cid refused to believe it.

“I won’t allow it. I won’t allow you to waste culinary perfection. Tifa labored over this masterpiece and it’s my birthday so you have to do what I ask. Them’s the rules.” Cid replied through a mouthful of the sweet confection. He motioned Tifa over with another slice and she dropped it off with a showy spin.

“Enjoy Vincent!” She called as she darted back to the bar to sit with Cloud.

“See you can’t turn down service like that, it’d be an insult.” Cid shoveled another forkful into his mouth with a groan of decadent pleasure.

“Fine.” The gunman relented before tugging down the collar of his cloak a bit and taking a tentative bite. His eyes widened in surprise.

“See? Better than sex that is.” Cid grinned.

Vincent’s eyes met his with a flash of indignation and Cid saw him about to reply but, as if thinking better of it, he took another bite instead. Hopelessly fascinated, the pilot found himself unable to hold back a bit of prying.

“You disagree?” Vincent’s eyes narrowed at him in response, so Cid tried again. “C’mon Valentine I can see it on your face. What I can see of it that is...”

“I do disagree, though not to the insult of the cake. It is very good.” His voice was stern enough to imply that he would speak no more on the matter but the veiled threat did nothing to quell the warm weight that settled in Cid’s gut at the response. So the Ex-Turk enjoyed a tumble in the sheets? That was a new fact to file away. A prized tidbit of information. Oh he wanted to know more, but that would be akin to pulling teeth and would probably end with nothing more than a cold steel barrel down his throat.

Kinky. He might not mind that.

“What I don’t get is how she knew about my birthday. I don’t recall ever mentioning that.” Cid mused, dropping the previous subject. He knew when to admit defeat. Sometimes.

Vincent’s eyes dropped down to his plate and he continued eating silently. His silence was enough, that and the knowledge that while they were all friends it was the Ex-Turk he had confided in the most. They had compared ages once, while sharing a room at the Ghost Hotel. At the time Cid was quite convinced that he was the oldest in their merry bunch, he had been proven very wrong. Had he mentioned his birthdate then? He must have.

“You told her didn’t ya?” Cid’s tone was accusatory but his eyes danced with mirth. He felt a sudden rush of happiness that he would have thought impossible just minutes before up on the rooftop. That was until he glanced down to see his plate was now empty. He sighed in disappointment. Then he heard a shift across the table and looked up to see an outstretched fork with a large cube of cake speared in its tongs. Vincent was watching him again, the gaze curious this time.

‘Careful Highwind, don’t push him,’ his mind cautioned while his body did the exact opposite. As usual. He kept the eye contact with tenacity as he leaned in and closed his mouth over the offering. Lips curling into a smile, not at the flavor this time but at the way Vincent licked his own lips reflexively. Barely visible over the tugged down edge of his collar. Okay this was new, this he could work with. He pulled away chewing but continued to hold the gunman’s gaze, a crooked grin on his face. Vincent cleared his throat with a cough, turning away when their impromptu staring watch became too much. Cid stretched, victorious. Reaching his arms to the ceiling and feeling bold. He was proud of those arms, they still had some nice muscle to them and he could feel Vincent’s eye flit back to track the movement. Then he pushed his legs out, his calves tangling with the Ex-Turk’s ankles. Finding himself pleasantly surprised when the other man didn’t pull away.

“Happy Birthday Chief.” Vincent’s words were warm as molten gold and Cid wanted whatever this was to last. This strange half-flirtatious rapport building between the two of them. His confession on the rooftop while not exactly direct was an undeniable hint at his affection. It remained unanswered as did his earlier question. Did Vincent really care? It certainly seemed that way now. Even with Cid’s cards, his very soul, laid bare before him on the table Vincent didn’t move away. Chancing exposure by placing himself directly in Cid’s orbit. Allowing him to parse out the Ex-Turk’s true feelings from that proximity. He wanted to push it further but it was risky. There were too many people here, soon they’d be interrupted. Someone was bound to be oblivious to the signs and come over to wish him a happy birthday. He’d play it off but what if it spooked Vincent?

“Best birthday so far and it’s not even the actual day yet.” He looked down at his watch. “Just an hour to go. Now all I need is a cup of tea and a warm fire.” Cid swallowed down any residual fear and continued on, watching Vincent carefully. “You have a place to stay tonight? Or were you planning on roughing it?” Or leaving. He left that option unspoken as if speaking it would make it so. 

“I hadn’t really thought that far yet.” Vincent looked off to where Tifa and Cloud were talking, the two so close their shoulders were brushing. “Tifa mentioned that she would put any of us up that wished to stay but I’d rather not impose. I’m sure I will figure out something, it’s not like I need to sleep.” The Ex-Turk shrugged with a swish of his cloak.

Huh. So he could feed him cake off his own fork but wasn’t brazen enough to pick up on what Cid was implying? Strange. Guess he’d just have to try again. “Plenty o’ space on the Shera. I even had individual rooms built in for each of you, in case any of you wanted to stay. Or the world needed saving again.” Cid brushed a nervous hand through his hair and turned to look away as he felt heat creep into his cheeks. He hadn’t really told anyone about the rooms yet except Shera herself. “Then I could give you the grand tour, I mean if you’d like. I was planning on bringing everyone over tomorrow but I wouldn’t mind showing her off twice. You’ve already seen the Bridge but there’s still a whole lotta ship left.”

“I would.” Vincent muttered lowly and Cid turned back to him surprise, sure his face was one big question mark. “I would like that I mean.” He finished before dropping his gaze back down to his plate. Shit, here they were again acting like a couple of angst-ridden teenagers. Time to remedy that. 

“Woohoo!” Cid walloped with grin shattering the awkwardness and utterly unapologetic when the entire bar turned to stare at the two of them. Vincent gave him a look that seemed to question if the pilot had really lost his marbles. “What are we waiting for then? I can’t wait to show off my new lady, she’s a beaut. You’ll love her Val. Let’s blow this joint.”

Vincent nodded his assent with a shake of his head and Cid practically dragged the gunman out of the bar by his cape in excitement. Only stopping to mutter some quick goodbyes, accept birthday wishes, and of course grab a couple more slices of cake. For breakfast tomorrow. No man could judge him now, he was on cloud nine. There were a couple of complaints and raised eyebrows when Cid explained that they were leaving as he was typically a bar closer. But hell, he’d let em wonder. 

Cid had to park the Shera just outside the city limits considering her size but the two made good time. Both had become well versed with Midgar’s vast network of streets and were able to figure out the quickest path through the slums. It was late enough that the alleys were mostly devoid of life except for a stray dog here and there. The colder months were upon them and it lightened Cid’s heart to notice there were fewer people living on the streets than there had been just days before. The WRO had quickly implemented a civil cleanup program in the slums after the Sephiroth Crisis and it appeared as though their efforts were working. Between that and the devastation of Geostigma washed away, quite literally, the homeless population was dwindling. Cid was proud of his team, they hadn’t stopped saving the world after Sephiroth was defeated. Their efforts and battles were just of more socio-economical nature nowadays.

The last building they passed on their way out the Sector Five gate was Aerith’s church. Though late the building still seemed to be lit inside with a warm glow that was akin to the midsummer’s sun. Vincent stared up at it, expression concealed by hair and collar. “Do you think it really was her helping us? That she was the one who cured the Geostigma?”

“Damn straight it was. Don’t think there’s ever been a time since her…well you know that she hasn’t been lookin’ after us.” Cid stopped to stare at the building with Vincent for a moment. Even now he could sense her presence. There was no room for doubt. Couldn’t Vincent feel it? Or had the Ex-Turk closed himself off to such senses?

“I suppose you’re right. We owe her a great deal.” Vincent turned away with a twirl of his cloak, saying no more on the matter. Still Cid’s thoughts lingered on that hushed tone, the open curiosity behind it for the rest of their trip. 

Believing in Aerith, keeping her memory alive, it was the very definition of hope to Cid. Hope for the Planet and forgiveness for those that dwelled upon her surface. He had always been a man of logic and science, one who had little regard for the blind faith that religion and gods called for. It wasn’t necessary in his life. As a pilot and a mechanic he knew that a blessing in the air consisted solely of two things: a steady hand and a sharp mind. Knowing that Aerith had saved them all not once but twice now with the magic of the Ancients was as close as he got to devout. Holy; he had seen it firsthand and so had the rest of them. How could Vincent doubt such a thing? He had been there when that all-encompassing light erupted from the Planet’s core to shield them. Why apologize endlessly if he didn’t believe in hope? In forgiveness?

When Cid had flown out to meet the rest of them and join the battle with Bahamut Zero he had only a few brief seconds to pull Cloud aside. To slug the kid in the arm and say, “World must be ending if the gang’s all here!” Cloud had only nodded in response, naturally distracted by the situation at hand. But of course Cid pushed a little further, “Even Vincent, eh?” At the mention razor sharp Mako eyes turned his way, cold and calculating, reading behind the lines in that uncanny Soldier manner. A moment passed before Cloud spoke. 

“He said he’s never tried….to be forgiven.”

To anyone else it would have been an odd thing to say without context but Cloud was their leader for a reason. Never one to mince words, he had brought them all together with his quiet diligence and subdued aura and he had kept them with the strength of his spirit and his willingness to do what was right. Cid had been a terrible temporary leader. He had a horrendous memory for details like Materia placement and had no mind for battle strategy. Half the time it was hard for him to differentiate between man and machine. Cloud was observant, just knew them. Inside and out. He knew Cid would understand what he veiled behind those words, would read between the lines. What he was really saying was: _I’m worried about him but I have too much of my own trauma to deal with. Handle it._

Cid was worried too. Had been worrying himself sick for two years and that ended now.

They made it to the Shera at fifteen minutes to midnight prompting Cid to give Vincent the expedited tour. He promised the gunman a more thorough tour tomorrow with the rest of the gang. But now he had a mission, they needed to make it to the Captain’s quarters by midnight so he could get in a birthday toast. He had an expensive bottle of Wutainese Whiskey that would be perfect for the occasion. Plus there was nothing like whiskey when it came to loosening lips and greasing a conversation. 

Vincent was appropriately distracted by the machine room, letting out a low appreciative noise at the size of the pistons and Cid’s new high-tech Mako-free engine. It was almost enough to break Cid’s resolve as he fought the urge to pull the Ex-Turk into a dark corner and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. Too forward, there would be no victory if he accosted the man straight out of the gate. Instead he internally praised his own self-restraint as he practically shoved the gunman out of the room and down the hall. He pointed out each of the individual rooms as he passed, noting some individualized features about each of them. Yuffie’s was booby trapped in case the ninja had any unwanted guests, Red’s walls were painted with panoramic views of Cosmo Canyon, Cait Sith’s contained a variety of slot machines and storage lockers for costumes, Barret’s walls were collaged with close to a million pictures of Marlene, and so on. Vincent’s room he saved for last, which worked out well considering it was next to Cid’s own Captain’s cabin. That was definitely not an intentional decision or anything. 

“Highwind this is…” The gunman’s breath caught as he eyed the dark mahogany accented bedroom. It was fairly simple in design considering Cid knew Vincent wouldn’t have enjoyed something too ostentatious. There was a four poster bed covered in red silk sheets and a deep crimson duvet, a curved black velvet reading chair with a small bookshelf near it, and a long lacquered table. The later was inset with slotted compartments and spread out across its surface was a variety of gun maintenance tools in gleaming chrome. The snarling face of Cerberus a burned emblem in the center of the piece.

“I thought you’d like it. Maybe enough to stop sleeping in trees.” Cid replied gruffly, rubbing the toe of his boot into the carpeted floor of the hallway. 

Vincent walked in further picking up a couple of the tools reverently with his right hand. “You really made all of this for me?”

“‘Course.” Cid coughed, feeling exposed in a way he never had before. He looked down at his watch. Shit. “Five minutes Val, let’s go to my room. I have a surprise inside.”

“Another surprise? I’m beginning to think this has all been a very odd dream.” Vincent traced the edges of the Cerberus design with a finger. “Though I typically only have nightmares.”

“Yeah okay well I’m implementing a new rule. No nightmares. Not on my ship, they aren’t allowed. Now let’s get going.”

Vincent turned back to him with a bemused huff at his quick dismissal and followed him down the hall to the last room. This one had a gold plate that read ‘Captain’s Quarters’ on it in a bold and blocky script. Cid pushed the door open with a hand and beckoned Vincent inside.

Cid’s room was all polished oak-wood and blue. His bed swathed in ocean-rich jersey sheets and a warm wool coverlet. He had two expansive bay windows bracketing his bed that were currently concealed behind navy curtains. They normally overlooked the front end of the airship, allowing Cid the perfect view of the path ahead and the Shera’s sleek metal nose. What made his cabin truly special was the small kitchenette complete with an oak bar. It was stocked to the brim and next to a small stovetop for making tea. There was a bump out from the main sprawl of the room that contained an office space. It had a large desk with rocket schematics spread across it, a desk lamp, and a cozy stuffed armchair. Across from that was a small wrought iron fireplace and a short grey couch. The entirety was a veritable apartment in its own right, so much more than just a room.

“I was originally going to give myself something a little more utilitarian but then Shera herself got to it before I could.” Cid explained, feeling a rush of pride at his apprentice’s, no his partner’s handiwork. Shera had really outdone herself. Creating something special for him even though Cid had spent most of his life treating her like shit. He desperately wished to be able to take back all those cruel things he had said those many years ago. The woman had such a forgiving heart. She had quickly become one of Cid’s closest friends now that he knew she wasn’t responsible for the accident on Shinra No. 26. He wished he had given her a chance sooner.

“She did beautiful work.” Vincent walked over to the desk and leaned over to look at the blueprints. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked her to marry you yet.” The forward lean swept most of his hair into his face, hiding his expression entirely, but his tone was curious.

Cid was so surprised by the statement, especially after certain events tonight, he almost choked on his own spit. “Shera? Our relationship ain’t like that Val.”

“No? I guess I always assumed. She loves all the same things you do and she is very beautiful and also very kind.” 

“I care for her very deeply, don’t get me wrong. I’m just not attracted to her that way, she’s like a sister to me.” Cid flushed and busied himself with starting a fire and then at the bar, filling up two tumblers of whiskey and trying to sift through his feelings on the subject. How long had Vincent assumed he was in love with Shera? It wasn’t a huge leap he supposed, they did tend to act like an old married couple.

“My apologies.” Vincent straightened suddenly, as if coming to an abrupt decision. The gunman’s voice never had much inflection but there was an odd lightness to it. He didn’t sound sorry in the slightest which was strange coming from a man who was usually so emphatic when it came to apologizing.

Dammit. Here he was making the man say it again. 

“Apology accepted but also remember what I said about apologizing all the time? Not allowed.” Cid handed him a glass of the honey colored liquor and checked his watch one last time. “It’s time. Here’s your other surprise. Whiskey from Wutai, aged for thirty years in the caves below the Da-chao Statue.”

“More liquor? I think we’ve had enough.” Vincent joked even as he accepted his tumbler. “And aren’t you suppose to receive surprises on your birthday not give them in kind?”

“Hey I’m not the numbskull who drank half a bottle of honeywine in one go. Indulge an old man in his simple pleasures.” Cid raised his glass. “Sometimes giving is a gift in itself, plus you’re here with me right? That’s surprise enough for me and I have a good feelin’ you were indirectly responsible for the cake. So let’s toast to an old man getting older, spending time with a good friend, and having a damn fine birthday.”

“Cheers.” Vincent clinked his glass with Cid’s then pushed his collar down to take a swig and Cid realized there was only one thing missing. Only one more thing that could make this birthday perfect. It wasn’t fair trading gifts and confessions with a man with a mask on.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable in all that?” He gestured at Vincent’s long cloak, still buckled all the way up to his cheekbones.

“I’m used to it.” The Ex-Turk quipped making his way over to the small couch.

Cid trailed behind him, unwilling to be denied this time. Or ever, really. “It gets pretty warm in here with a fire and I think I’m allowed one request on my birthday.”

“You got your request, I tried your cake. And now you want me to take my clothes off?” He could just barely make out one of Vincent’s brows arching under his bangs. If he was a betting man he’d say that the gunman was smirking beneath his collar. At some point he’d learned to read the signs, read the man despite the mask.

The pilot almost scrambled but held his composure thanks to that knowledge, giving the gunman a cocksure smile. “I mean you can strip if you want to, I wouldn’t complain. But really I just meant your cloak. You have a nice face, I want to see it. It’s not often I get to and you said it yourself, this is a special occasion.”

The Ex-Turk sighed then complied, much to Cid’s shock and sudden terror. Wait, was he really mentally prepared for this? He gulped back another swallow of whiskey as the gunman began to disrobe. First he unwrapped and pulled the bandana out from waves of ebony hair, then he began unclasping the high collar of his cloak before pulling the ratty thing off entirely. Both he draped over the back of the couch. Finally he leaned over in a fluid move that made Cid gulp, to unclasp and remove his ridiculous gold-plated boots. Cid began to panic internally. Had he really thought this through? A night of completely exposed Mako-red eyes and soft lips. His libido would never survive, much less his heart. 

“Satisfied?” Vincent turned back to him with arms crossed. The black leather of his bodysuit clinging to his lithe frame like a second skin and his long waves of hair sweeping down to brush past his shoulders where they all but disappeared against the black backdrop of his clothing. He looked so slight without all the layers. His normally intimidating presence diminished. A pale and slender specter swathed in midnight. 

It was like that day on the bridge all over again. He could see all of his face. The soft curve of his lips, the sharp point of his chin, and jut of his cheek bones. Vincent was lovely and Cid couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. All words escaped him. He was able to quickly shake out a nod though when he noticed Vincent’s mouth start to drop into a frown at his silence. The Ex-Turk shook his head and turned to sit down on the couch, Cid following like a mute puppy dog.

“I thought you wanted tea with your fire?” Vincent crossed his legs and fired an accusatory look in Cid’s direction. It was so strange to be able to see the expression immediately. To not have to parse it together from gathered clues. A flash of the eyes, a lift of the eyebrows, an exasperated sigh, or the hint of a laugh.

“I-uh I changed my mind. Can always have tea later, the night is young.” Cid shuffled awkwardly, afraid he may have sat too close but unable to move away now. Vincent smelled of rain, wine, and gun powder. It was distracting. “Don’t you like it?”

“Mmm,” he hummed through the next sip, “you mistake me. It’s very good. Earthy.” He closed his eyes as he savored the flavor, a tongue flicking out to catch the residue that clung to his lips. Cid’s gaze following the movement, hopelessly beguiled. “I’m just starting to question your intentions. First you drag me into your room, make me undress, and now I’m beginning to believe you aim to get me drunk. Am I correct, Highwind?”

This time he did choke on his whiskey. Cid might have had some ulterior motives bringing Vincent to the Shera tonight, he’d admit that he wasn’t a saint, but this was escalating a bit too quickly. He hadn’t expected the stoic gunman to address it directly. Maybe he had wanted some more flirting and if that went well then perhaps some light petting? It was a reasonable expectation. Was he going to admit that to Vincent? Absolutely not. As stated many times before, he did not have a death wish.

“Ehrm…it’s not…I just wanted…” Cid shifted uncomfortably under the Ex-Turk’s accusatory, side-eyed gaze as those red eyes peeled back open.

Vincent ignored his attempt to backpedal. “So you aren’t attracted to Shera but I’ve seen you flirt with both Yuffie and Tifa. Now I’m curious. So tell me Chief, where exactly do your tastes really lie?”

Valiantly, Cid got it together for this response. Or at least he thought he did. He took another large swig for want of liquid confidence. “It’s hard to explain, I guess I’ve always had more, uh, exotic tastes.” Smooth Highwind. What the hell was he even trying to say with that? Screw self-preservation. Maybe he should just let Vincent shoot him and put him out of his misery.

“Exotic?” The gunman questioned, turning to face him more directly. It was at the turn that Cid realized it was the first word that came to mind when he looked at Vincent. Between the red eyes, his vampiric paleness, and his hair that was longer than any man’s had a right to be he was just that. Completely atypical.

“You know…not the usual.”

“I know what the word means Cid. Stop avoiding the question.” Vincent’s tone was lethal and his use of Cid’s first name made him snap to attention like a chastised child. The two had always dealt primarily in nicknames or last names. It was kind of their signature, an homage to their friendship over the years. This sudden step away from that had Cid reeling.

“Fuck Val, I don’t know. Not women for one.” Cid felt like he had to drag the words from somewhere deep in his esophagus. Even though he knew being honest was the best response in this scenario, even though he knew Vincent wouldn’t judge him for it, he still felt like he had exposed a nerve. Desperate and twitching under Vincent’s scrutiny.

“Oh. Well you could have just said that. Although it still doesn’t explain the flirtations.” Satisfied it seemed for the time being, Vincent propped his chin on his right hand while his gauntleted arm rested over crossed legs. Looking all the world ready to listen to Cid divulge his deepest darkest secrets and not a step away from violence like he had just a moment ago.

“What can I say? Just because I’m into men doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a pretty lady.” Nope, he wasn’t going to let Vincent get off that easy. They had spent enough time focusing on Cid’s own problems, his ranting. This time he would be better, this time he wanted to learn. To listen. He had questions of his own. “What about you? I know you’re a fan of the dames but is Lucretia still your one and only? I mean its sweet Val but maybe it’s time to let that go. I know you still feel guilty but really you don’t owe that woman anything anymore. But I already told you my feelings on that earlier.”

Vincent turned away again, taking another sip of his whiskey. “My feelings for Lucretia are complicated, though I do realize that ship sailed long ago. Regardless, I’d prefer not to speak about it right now. It seems like neither the time nor place.”

It was like a door being slammed shut. Cid cursed himself, there he went making things awkward again. He really needed to stop shooting himself in the foot by bringing up delicate subjects. “Hey now you’re avoiding the subject.” He leaned in poking the gunman in the shoulder. “Okay so ladies. Brunettes? What’s your type?” Cid ribbed, hoping to lighten the mood. He had spent too long running when that door shut, this time he would find a way to pry it back open. Even if it meant putting a bit of his neck on the line.

“The gender or hair color doesn’t matter to me, it’s the person that’s important.” 

“Oh.” Cid remarked dumbly as red eyes met his again, Vincent turning back towards him. There was something that lingered beneath the surface of those eyes. A thought that wanted to be voiced but was caged, a flame reduced to a flicker. If only Cid was smart enough to figure it out, give it time and stop running his goddamn mouth. “That’s cool. I get that, equal opportunity. So what’s your personality type then? Probably smart if I had to guess…”

“Cid.” Vincent interrupted. “I don’t think you’re getting my point. I’m not good with words.”

“What point?” He was honestly confused, was there something he had been missing? “Plus, you’re great with words. Sure you use them sparingly but that just makes them better. More special. Like that thing you said right before the battle with Sephiroth, it was better than poetr-”

Vincent cut him off again, this time with the press of warm lips against his own. It was just a quick touch, soft as the brush of a feather and just as fleeting. Cid had no time to react other than to chase those lips helplessly as they darted away just as quick as they came.

The gunman licked them as he pulled back, looking a bit surprised at himself. “I’m sorr- I mean that was forward of me. If my feelings are untoward please let me know.” He took the last half of his whiskey like a shot, just in time for Cid to snatch the glass from him and drop in to the ground with no regard for clinging droplets on a new carpet. A resulting mess far from the forefront of his mind. Hauling the man to him with a strength he underestimated. Vincent ended up half in his lap, a tangle of long leather clad legs, looking down at him with wide eyes. “Cid?”

“Better but that still counts as apologizing. Never do that okay? Especially when what you’re doing is the opposite of unwanted.” He grinned when Vincent nodded with a swallow. “Good.” He pressed his hand into the groove of his neck, sliding under that inky black hair. It felt so nice to finally touch it, feel the silky strands of it slip through his fingers, as he gently tugged his head down for another kiss. His mouth was as soft as he’d imagined, though Cid doubted anything about Vincent Valentine would ever disappoint.

Vincent’s eyes slid shut as he fell down into it and allowed Cid to lead this time. The pilot took his time, leaving a lingering burn of imprinted lips against each bit of skin he laid claim to. First to that curved mouth that he only ever caught glimpses of, secondhand, then the sharp line of his jaw before he dropped down to the smooth column of his neck, both mysteries no longer. Vincent’s breath caught as he sucked a mark there. He pulled away reluctantly to admire his handiwork, the mark a flaming red brand against ivory skin. Shockingly the gunman offered up no complaints, though it wasn’t as though he’d need to try to hide it. His cloak alone was enough to hide his neck from the world.

“I have a bit of a confession. So that room I made you? I never really wanted ya to stay there. Always pictured you in here with me if I’m being honest.” Cid tugged lightly again on that long hair, unable to help himself.

He got a soft laugh in response as Vincent untwisted himself and slid fully into his lap, knees splaying on either side of his hips. The hand tangled in silky hair slid down to grip the gunman by the hips as Cid rocked his own up into the warmth above him, reveling in the sharp gasp he was rewarded with. This was nice, he could do this all night but truthfully now that he had a taste he only wanted more. He had to be cautious. Vincent had initiated this, sure, but if he was too forward would he chase him away?

“’Cept in those particular daydreams we were usually in the bed.” Cid hedged as he leaned back up to nip back at the line of Vincent’s jaw, groaning happily when a leather clad right hand found its way into his own hair. Of course Vincent still had his damn glove on, gauntlet too although that was blessedly hanging at his side and not in potential slashing range. Cid may consider himself adventurous in the bedroom but bloodplay was where he drew the line. The giant metal claw arm had to come off somehow. He needed to get the rest of this shit off him too, the leather was supple but sticky where it clung to skin and held fast. He had gotten just a glimpse and now he wanted to see it all. Tonight was his birthday and deep down he was nothing but a greedy man. Maybe he’d be allowed another request? He thought as he dove back in for another kiss, this one deeper and sloppier than the last as Cid chased the burning after taste of whiskey from Vincent’s lips and tongue.

“Ah- the beds a little far away.” Vincent managed to gasp out pulling Cid’s head back, the pilot desperately sucking in a breath, and locking searing red eyes with his. “We’ve both been such fools for so long, I want this now.”

A greedy man that had been given a boon beyond his wildest imagination. How could he be so fucking lucky? To be able to touch the stars was incomprehensible. A joy beyond imagining. To be able to have this too? It blew his mind. The slight trepidation and ill feeling darkness inside him from his worry before faded. Cid felt fresh warmth blossom in his chest. He had thought he’d have to pull all of the legwork, coerce the Ex-Turk into his arms and impress him. Pull out all the stops to get him to stay, every trick turned to make him mindless with pleasure and unable to turn away. So how was it that Cid was the one that was already breathless? It was a surprisingly simple answer; because he wanted him right back. The thought was enough to leave the pilot drunk on elation. It finally hit home, with the accuracy of a gunshot. Vincent wanted this just as badly as he did.

“Oh fuck, Val. You too?” Cid groaned at the implications of his epiphany as Vincent shifted down above him and he had to scramble for a better hold on leather bound hips before the Ex-Turk accidentally threw himself off his lap. It took a couple of cycles before they got the rhythm right again, meeting each other half way in an agonizingly slow grind that left Cid aching. Vincent threw his arms around his shoulders haphazardly with a sigh, burying his head in Cid’s neck. The gauntlet a cold heavy weight at his back but suddenly he wasn’t so worried about possible evisceration. He owed the gunman more trust than that. The pilot leaned in to bite the lobe of his ear, another mystery discovered, and whispered into it softly. “You’re right. We’ve been a couple of idiots haven’t we?” 

Maybe it was Cid all along that needed to believe he was worth it. Maybe once again Vincent was swooping in to save him. Always the hero, even when he thought of himself as the villain. 

Screw that. He was going to do this man a good turn even if it killed him. It was about time somebody did and he was pretty sure he was just the man for the job. With a grunt and a repositioning of his hands Cid scooped up the gunman by his hips. Vincent at first was decidedly unhelpful as he leaned back in surprise until he realized what was happening and instead wrapped his legs tightly around Cid’s waist. Thankfully between that and his already entwined arms he was able to cling to Cid and not upset their balance as the pilot began making shaky steps over to the bed. Shit, the gunman was heavier than he looked. This may have been a mistake, Cid was strong but he had underestimated the weight of six feet of squirming Ex-Turk.

“Cid, this is-” He began as Cid paused halfway to readjust his grip. His arms pinged a warning cry, the sort he would never ignore on his ship, but he did manage to get a handful of shapely ass. So all in all he’d count it as a win. Definitely worth it despite how achy his muscles would be come morning.

“Foolish, yeah I know. But I wasn’t about to make us separate if ya didn’t want to.” Cid bit out tightly as he muscled his way over and all but threw the gunman onto the bed when he made it. Vincent bounced slightly with an unexpectedly undignified grunt before scrambling up onto his forearms to glare up at Cid.

“Stubborn.” Vincent corrected blowing an errant strand of hair out of his eyes, but there was a fondness in his voice that belied his irritated expression. One that Cid may not have picked up on previously. “Stubborn and foolish. I was fine on the couch, you don’t need to show off. I’ve seen your strength in battle.”

“Wasn’t showin’ off. Just figured we’d be comfier here. You might’ve been fine on the couch but with my age I would’ve ended up throwin’ out my back.” He gave Vincent a crooked grin. “Maybe I want to be able to do this all over again with you in the morning?”

“You aren’t that frail, so stop complaining as if you are some sort of old codger.” Vincent snorted, and brushed his bangs back as they fell back into his face. Turns out there may have been a reason behind that silly bandana. “Look what you’ve done. Well we ended up separated after all.” He looked up at Cid slyly, before pulling his one leather glove off with his teeth. Cid gulped audibly.

“Oh that can be remedied. But first…” Cid tugged his goggles off his head and threw them somewhere into the unknown depths of the palatial room. Then he quickly dragged his shirt over his head to drop on the floor, doing an odd sort of gig as he unhooked his utility belt then pulled off his socks and boots. He was pretty sure it was terribly unsexy but Vincent watched him with smoldering eyes all the same. Now freed from behind the flight goggles a few stray locks of his own golden blonde hair fell in his eyes in a way that he hoped made him look as handsomely disheveled as it did for Vincent. With bare feet he padded over and crawled along the delicious curve of the Vincent’s body. Meeting his lips with a quick smacking kiss before pulling back again.

“Better?” He dragged his stubble lined jaw against the smooth skin of the gunman’s cheek. Pausing at the sudden feel of cold steel against his bellybutton. He looked down to see a long gold claw curled into the waist of his jeans. Nervously he lifted his gaze back to Vincent who gave him a sideways smile. An uncharacteristically cocky grin. One he probably learned from him, the bastard.

“No. You forgot something.” Vincent tugged with the clawed fingertip meaningfully though, thank the Planet, not hard enough to rip Cid’s jeans or damage other essential parts.

“You’re still in a leather jumpsuit with that freaking claw on. Like you can talk.” Cid grumbled, pushing the golden gauntlet away from his groin area with a curse. “Didn’t your mother ever tell ya to be careful with sharp objects? Like maybe don’t go sticking them in sensitive areas?” 

Vincent chuckled then pulled the gauntlet up to his face, scooting up the bed and out from under Cid’s caged arms. “Are you sure you want me to remove it? You may not like what you see.” He asked, brow furrowing at Cid’s enthusiastic nod. “Very well.” With practiced ease he bit into the straps and pulled them free, after he unhooked three of them the gauntlet slid off and hit the ground beside the bed with an audible thunk. His arm underneath was all mottled scar tissue and deformed, the hand a stump with barely enough fingers left to hold a hand or pull a trigger. Cid felt his heart clench and grabbed the malformed wrist, his eyes meeting Vincent’s wary ones as he pressed a kiss to the side of it. The look of wonder on Vincent’s face after was one that Cid wished he could bottle for a rainy day. 

The gunman shakily brought his other hand up to the zipper on his bodysuit, his eyes not leaving Cid’s. Lips parted and still regarding him as if he was some sort bizarre mirage that might disappear if he looked away. With just the one hand it was difficult and the zipper snagged only an inch down. Vincent frowned, and now that wasn’t allowed, and Cid was beginning to become restless. He wanted to taste, his fingertips itched with a desire to touch. The scant inches between them from when Vincent slid up the bed earlier felt like miles. With a frustrated growl he pinned the offending arm to the bed and dove back in. Swallowing Vincent’s protests with lips and teeth.

“You’re taking too long, lemme do it.” He managed in-between searing kisses, using his off hand to yank the zipper down with violent intent.

“Impatient.” Vincent muttered against his lips, it didn’t sound like he was complaining. Certainly not when he let out a shocked gasp as Cid’s palm found its way under the half-open bodysuit to drag up his chest. Cid used the opening to lick into his mouth with wide strokes, his hand releasing the gunman’s wrist so he could massage the hinge of his jaw open wider until the kiss became openmouthed and filthy. The Ex-Turk panting helplessly into his mouth. His bodysuit unzipped to his hips and hanging half off a shoulder. Cid snaked an arm through the opening to finally hold the man to him but Vincent broke away shuddering. 

“No, no, no…” He hissed and Cid backed off immediately, stomach plummeting and unsure of where he had gone wrong.

“I-” He gasped for breath looking a bit panicked, as he tried to lift himself in vain. Suddenly Cid understood what had happened. “I can’t move.” He pulled fruitlessly at the left arm where the fabric had bunched and caught under the weight of Cid’s knee. The open side of the leather had wrapped around to tangle his right arm in the mix, binding him in place. 

“Shit! Val, I’m so sorry.” Cid helped him pull his arms free as quickly as he could. There had been enough close encounters with horrific vine monsters and chained demons for Cid to know that Vincent was terrified of the idea of being bound. Between that and the now prominently noticeable glossy scar tissue of a bullet wound on his chest Cid felt a rage well up in him unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had a desperate urge to find a pinion of phoenix down just so he could resurrect Hojo and tear that psychotic bastard to pieces again. Slowly. 

“It’s alright.” Vincent brought up his now free hand to caress Cid’s jaw gently, as if sensing his quick decent into homicidal fury, the soft timbre of his voice enough to bring him back to the moment. “I just want to be able to touch you.”

“Right. Well let’s just get this damned thing off ya then.” Cid glanced down to find that his own hands were shaking slightly as he raised them to help. The rage taking its time to dissipate. It didn’t go unnoticed as the Ex-Turk pushed his trembling hand away with a sigh.

“I can do it.” Vincent shifted to the side of the bed leaving Cid bereft, feeling a sudden chill though he knew the room was warm. He watched as the Ex-Turk unbuckled his belts and pulled the rest of the bodysuit off efficiently if not a bit hesitantly. Not slowly per se, but with a clinical sort of speed that made it seem as though he wanted to get it out of the way and be done with it. All Cid could see was the slender curve of his back, riddled with razor thin scars. 

Cid unbuttoned and stepped out of his own jeans and undergarments, turning back to place a hand on Vincent’s shoulder when the gunman didn’t immediately come back to him. He gently tugged his arm and ushered him back to the center of the bed, following him in a crawl all the way. When Vincent was settled back in the center of the bed Cid took a good long look. It was as he expected, Vincent was all long limbs and pale lithe muscle. Skin smooth and milky in complexion. A stark contrast to his own tanned barrel chest that was lightly dusted with golden hair. Of course there was more scarring but it wasn’t like Cid didn’t have scars of his own. Scars, calluses, and wrinkles. They were the marks of the life he lived and he was proud of each and every one of them. Vincent’s scars showed that he walked through hell and survived and Cid loved them too. A sign that his body prevailed against pain, each a badge of honor.

Oh and the fact that he wore nothing underneath that crazy ass jumpsuit? Well that was really freaking hot. 

Red eyes watched him warily. He probably assumed Cid would look away, pretend not to notice for his sake. But Cid wasn’t the kind of guy to look away from an ugly truth, especially not when the person at stake was someone so goddamn wonderful.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Vincent looked away from him determinedly though Cid was quite positive there was nothing interesting about that left-facing wall.

“Don’t believe me? Fine, then let me show you.” Cid resumed right where he left off, leaving no space for time lost on being shy again. Quickly realizing Vincent didn’t need someone to give him space to doubt, he needed someone who pushed right past his barriers like they didn’t matter. Because they didn’t, not to Cid. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the man below him, he was perfect. He dove in for another kiss, prying lips open with his own to delve inside. This time Vincent didn’t let him lead without a fight, it seemed he also had given up on hesitation as he dragged his right hand up to claw at the pilot’s back. His tongue curling around Cid’s with intent but he wasn’t going to win this time. Cid had something to prove and he wasn’t going to let this victory slip away from him. 

He switched tactics, releasing hips and hair to pluck and tease at hardening flesh. One hand scraping trailing long lines across Vincent’s torso and another sliding further down and grasping. The Ex-Turk choked against his lips and he seized the opportunity to plunder deeper. He found his rhythm again after a moment’s dalliance. It was there waiting to be found, as intrinsic as melody he had been born with. Strokes long and languid with his right, his left thumb circling the raised flesh of a nipple teasingly. He pulled his mouth back slightly wanting to gage his success and wasn’t disappointed in his results.

“Highwind-” Vincent gasped like he was about to protest, his hand no longer raking lines down his back but holding on desperately for purchase.

He silenced the rest of his sentence with another kiss. Once again blown away by how easy it was, how simple. He hadn’t known how much he needed it. The anxious huffs of breath against his lips, the rapid heartbeat thrumming under his palm. He swallowed it down like a man starving, only to find an endless carafe of the finest wine set before him. Helpless to his own need.

He had always joked about Vincent finally growing tired of his antics and putting a bullet between his eyes. Both aloud and in his head. It seemed a self-fulfilling prophecy as he felt himself pulled under with each breath. This would be the death of him, he was sure of it. He didn’t even have an ounce of self-preservation to feel upset about it. Maybe Vincent was right, maybe he didn’t have the brain cells for it. Certainly not right now with all his blood fleeing his head to pool much lower.

He hadn’t meant to spring on Vincent that quickly again, had briefly considered the option of letting him lead but that single self-deprecating glance away had put Cid back on track. When the kiss became too much, the lack of oxygen one culprit among multiple in making him light headed, Cid pulled back and began to make his way down Vincent’s body. Swollen lips finding smooth and scarred skin alike, worshiping both equally. The body below his a feast to be devoured. The lightly muscled curve of it befitting a killer, an assassin, and the scars a claim of the demons that called this man their host. Able to be called forth at any moment. Vincent was danger personified, and yet he flexed and shuddered under him like an untouched supplicant caught in the inexplicable throes of innocence lost. The soft noises he made around his left hand as he bit into it were like a lit match to the jet fuel of Cid’s desire. He had never been so turned on before despite not even being touched. His goal hadn’t changed, it had sharpened. He wanted Vincent to know exactly how much he craved him. To press it into his body and mind until he was screaming with ecstasy and unable to deny it. Until it consumed him entirely. 

Eventually he made it to his goal, his tongue swirling around Vincent’s erection before swallowing it down. The Ex-Turk moaned breathily before slumping back down on the bed and Cid felt the reverberation across the mattress as his head fell back to expose that long column of white neck. Like a beacon of ripe temptation but the pilot had another treat to devour. One that was just as sweet. And if it pulled such wonderful sounds from the gunman: soft unbidden whines and groans that snuck out between clenched teeth. Then it was all the sweeter. 

“Cid-” He panted, trying to rise back onto his forearms to better see his undoing. Still entirely too lucid for the pilot’s liking. Cid tongued the slit before sucking hard and watched with wicked pleasure as the rest of Vincent’s sentence broke apart entirely. “-I…gods…you’re…”

“Amazing?” Cid finished for him as he pulled off wetly, licking his lips and shooting Vincent a devilish smile. One that he hoped conveyed how thoroughly satisfied he was. The Ex-Turk tried to huff an annoyed sound at him as he caught his breath but it came out more staccato than he imagined Vincent intended. “You’re a lot noisier than I’d thought you’d be.” He teased, enjoying Vincent’s resulting flush. A violent stain against his ghostly complexion. 

“Relentless.” Vincent gritted out between re-clenched teeth before he lunged. Cid was just a second too late, as the gunman grabbed him by the forearm and dragged him bodily up to face him with a strength that was as terrifying as it was arousing. “And you talk too much.” He hissed before claiming Cid’s mouth in another scorching kiss. Vincent bit down on his lip with a little too much pressure then sucked it gently in apology and Cid felt his brain go off-line. Synapses no longer firing in synchronicity.

As if that one display of otherworldly strength hadn’t been enough Vincent then used his grip and Cid’s precarious hold on his own sanity to flip them. The pilot tried to struggle but he was distracted and Vincent’s slender form was as unyielding as iron. Cid was a strong guy, he knew this intrinsically – he had helped save the world after all, but his own power was nothing compared to the demonic strength that the gunman possessed. He may be physically larger but he’d never be stronger. Something about that caused his skin to prickle and his body to shiver. A chilling contrast to how he concurrently felt like he was actively melting. The heat in the room and radiating off the body above him was all consuming, even the air was think and cloying with it. Vincent loomed over him, his inky black hair curtaining around them in silky swatches. His lips parted to reveal rows of pearly white teeth, accented by sharp canines, as he looked down at Cid hungrily. Lips parted and breath leaving him in sharp rasps. And that was it. Cid’s brain just melted. He’d never have a single pure thought again.

Those sharp teeth set themselves immediately into the soft skin where his neck met his shoulder. “Shoulda known you’d be a biter.” The pilot groaned as a tongue replaced the teeth to soothe the wound. He wasn’t complaining, really, but did Vincent actually want to play into the whole vampire stereotype? He figured a guy who spent half his life in a coffin might shirk away from that sort of behavior. Vincent’s teeth moved quickly, dropping to place stray bites on the muscled flesh of a pec, Cid’s soft stomach, then eventually digging into the jut of his hip. Cid yelped at that one and sat up to complain again only to be halted by the feeling of slim fingers wrapping around him and stroking. The pace was slow and hypnotic. Cid felt his hips twitch to shift with the rhythm subconsciously. Vincent crawled back up to face him, dropping to lay on his side as his hand still maintained that heavenly motion. “Shit…Val. I had almost forgot. It’s so much better when it isn’t your own hand.”

“Highwind, shut up.” Vincent growled before putting Cid’s mouth to far better use. A few needy kisses of tongue and teeth were enough to silence him for the time being but he was beginning to grow restless once more. His brain was coming back online again though still slowed by that syrupy pleasure; currently being pulled back under by the electricity sparking down his spine from the ministrations of Vincent’s dexterous hands. He wouldn’t allow it, he wanted more. Still remembered his earlier mission even now, when victory seemed just out of his grasp. If he couldn’t win with strength alone then he needed to use his wits. What was left of them at least, brain melting notwithstanding. The Ex-Turk was lowered down beside him now, pliant and only shifting to rub his own desire needily against Cid’s hip. Momentarily content and catching his breath. A far cry now from the beast he had been a second ago with that steely pounce of pure aggression but soon he’d have the upper hand again. There was no doubt in his mind that the contentment was only temporary and that hostile creature was waiting beneath it with baited breath. Ready to spring. If he was going to act he needed to do so now. The gunman was very much within reach, a long crescent of pale flesh curled next to him. Every inch offered an opportunity to gain the upper hand but they were just learning each other. Cid didn’t know his weak points yet and he didn’t have the time to risk not finding them immediately. He’d have to play dirty and desperate. Rush the finish line before Vincent caught on. A last push towards victory, just like in a Chocobo race. That made it a strategy right?

Suddenly Cid had his plan, or at least the beginnings of one. He was finding himself in this position far too often. Too bad he had never considered himself much of a strategist.

With his left arm stretched to its limit Cid reached with straining fingers towards the small pot of lotion he kept on his nightstand. It was actually meant to help soothe the calluses he got from wielding that damn spear of his but it would do. He tried awkwardly to unscrew the top a few times with one hand as he used the other to hold Vincent’s face to his and not break the kiss as the gunman tried to pull away at the suspicious movement. Their eyes met as he forced his open and tried his best to convey ‘trust me’ to the curious look he found there. After a few tries he got it and resisted his urge to wallop in triumph as the top slid off and fell somewhere onto to the sheets. Fuck it, he could look for that later. Scooping a generous amount onto his fingers he delved deeper into the kiss as a distraction as his hand trailed down the Ex-Turk’s long back. Slowing when it hit tapered hips and sliding between rounded cheeks to circle the entrance he found there teasingly. It was also a question, one he’d normally voice but Vincent had told him to shut up not two short minutes ago. He listened to direction, sometimes.

Vincent gasped sharply against his lips at the first touch, dropping his forehead to rest against Cid’s shoulder. It wasn’t a no. Cid proceeded, slipping a finger into the tight channel and swallowing reflexively as it constricted around him. He’d never survive this, no way in hell. Vincent’s fingers tightened their grip on him as the gunman released a choppy sigh at the breach. Yeah that fun had to end, as much as it pained him. He wanted, no needed to make this good for Vincent. He was already worried about not being able to last without those nimble fingers massaging him slowly over the brink. He used his off hand to coax the fingers away cautiously before dragging them up his torso to kiss each of their tips gently. Vincent blinked up at him owlishly, eyes going hazy as Cid’s finger began to move with more purpose right as he swallowed down one of the gunman’s long fingers. Then they closed with a shudder when he added a second both ways. By the third Cid dropped Vincent’s hand to clasp his own over the gunman’s hip, pulling it towards him to open him up wider. He felt nails claw into the meat of his shoulder as the man shuddered bodily. Sharp chocking breaths sending anxious puffs of heat against Cid’s throat. Vincent cried out sharply as Cid’s fingers forged deeper, it could have been for pleasure or pain, the body’s response was eerily the same. He couldn’t stay silent, had to know.

“Hey, is this okay?” He whispered, slowing the thrust of his fingers and releasing Vincent’s hip to brush sweaty bangs out of the Ex-Turk’s face. 

“Yes. It-” Vincent exhaled a quick burst through his nose, “-it’s just been awhile. A long while. I forgot how intense it can be.”

Cid got it, he really did. It made him strangely honored to think that he might be the first person Vincent had done this with since his slumber. The first person he trusted enough to bare himself to. He desperately wanted to be the only one, he’d save that confession for later. “We can slow down, I don’t want it to be too mu-”

“No!” Vincent hissed urgently, twisting up to push his hips into Cid’s hand. “I don’t want you to stop, Highwi- Cid, please…”

Cid saw bright blinding red, retinas flooding under a haze of pure lust. Never a single pure thought again. What had he ever done to deserve such a creature? Devouring demon and writhing temptress both. A succubus, with tangled hair and hellfire eyes. Feeding off his every desire and making it truth. How could he deny such a request? That breathless plea enough to fray the last of his reserve. He wanted intense? Cid would give it gladly. Fingers delving deeper yet and this time when he heard Vincent’s resulting moan he recognized it for what it was. Not fear nor pain but sweet relief. He now knew what he had found before, the golden center of Vincent’s pleasure and he pursued it relentlessly. Just to feel the Ex-Turk come undone a little further, shaking beside him and burning. Feeling a bit like a beast himself as he used the hand still poised at the Ex-Turk’s cheek to grab a handful of hair and pull it back viciously to expose the column of his throat. It had been tempting him for too long and he could resist no longer. He took in the long resulting groan with pride before dropping wet open mouthed kisses down the line of it. 

“Cid- I’m – I can’t-” Vincent panted, motions split between rutting himself mindlessly against Cid’s abdomen and rocking back into his fingers. “-I want- not like this.”

“I know, I can’t wait anymore either.” Cid mumbled into his neck before curling his fingers just so.

Vincent had opened his mouth to speak again but chocked on the words, they dissolved into a curse. The first one he had heard the soft-spoken assassin utter in quite some time. Cid used the distraction to slide out from under him and hook an arm around that narrow waist to pull the gunman up with him. He lined his body along Vincent’s caging him with flesh and warmth, the now sticky fingers of his left hand sliding around the other’s. He grimaced, hoping the Ex-Turk wasn’t too squeamish. They could clean up later.

“What?” Vincent breathed warily as Cid’s arm pulled him tight and flush. Every curve slotted together like two halves of an abstract puzzle.

“This okay? I figured it’d be easier for you since it’s been awhile.” Cid murmured nuzzling into his sweat damp nape.

He felt Vincent push into his cage and gave easily, allowing his body to move at the slightest inclination. The intention wasn’t to have Vincent feel trapped, he was more than aware that the gunman could have broken out of it even if he had been trying. A quickly snap of his head and Cid would be knocked silly, a thrust of his legs and he’d go down, and that gun wasn’t too far away. Just slung over the couch a few short feet to the left. The Ex-Turk could throw him off and have the gun in hand before Cid even had the time to shout ‘mercy.’ But he could tell the thoughtfulness was appreciated all the same as Vincent hummed happily before arching up into his body in a different way. His body forming a delicious curve as he pressed himself back into Cid with a sigh, the pilot’s erection finding itself sliding home between the muscled mounds of his ass in a hell of a tease. This time it was Cid that chocked.

“Yes. Just do it Highwind.” Vincent finally responded, tossing long hair to look back at Cid with an impatient fire burning in his eyes.

It was too much to ask, there was no way Cid could have possibly ignored the urge to kiss him. Grabbing that pointed chin with still messy fingers despite the Ex-Turk’s flinch and pulling him into a messier kiss. The angle was bad, this time it was his neck that pinged in warning, and eventually he pulled away to grab the pot of lotion again, slicking himself with a hurried hand. His left hand slid up Vincent’s belly, trailing along sleek abs, to land over the Ex-Turk’s heart and squeeze. He felt Vincent freeze in his gentle sway. Cid lined himself up and slowly pushed in, reminding himself to be gentle even as his nerves sang with a battle cry for more as he passed that first ring of muscle.

“Shit.” Vincent swore again and tensed, body shaking at the intrusion. He was painfully tight and hotter than hell. Cid ran a soothing hand down the length of his spine, before softly pressing at his shoulders. After a moment Vincent got it, relaxing minutely and curving his spine as he dropped to his elbows. It was enough for Cid to slide home, the pilot and the gunman both gasping as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Cid groaned clutching him more snuggly to his chest as he toppled with him. The hand over his heart never loosening its hold.

They caught their breath together for a moment or two before Vincent finally flexed in his legs beneath him. He rocked back with a moan before cranking his neck to the side to throw Cid another smoldering glare. “Move, Chief.” He ordered, his voice a throaty rasp.

Fuck did that do things for him. Then again, Cid didn’t think there was a thing the Ex-Turk could do now that he wouldn’t find sexy. Not after witnessing this. He started his thrusts slow, giving himself time to regain his earlier rhythm. It wasn’t long before Vincent opened up beneath him, his body finally shutting down its last defenses and he was able to build up speed. The feel of that warm channel squeezing around him and hearing the cries Vincent tried to stifle into the pillow beneath him was enough to almost bring Cid to his pinnacle, much to his mounting embarrassment. He bit down hard onto his own tongue to cut the burn, he wouldn’t fail now. Vincent first. He was still spry enough to be a good partner. If there was anything Cid prided himself on it was being a considerate lover, a fantastic pilot, and a stubborn fucking bastard. He distracted himself by trailing kisses down Vincent’s spine. Tracing each vertebrae with his tongue as the bed shifted with the force of his thrusts. The exertion helping his focus. It was a bit harder than he’d normally go, especially so soon, but he knew the gunman could take it. Vincent was practically immortal after all.

The gunman didn’t seem to be in any pain. Certainly not when he lifted himself up from the pillows to twist his head, lips parted and panting heavily in Cid’s ear. A rhythmic counter point to each time Cid slid home. A moment later he felt the prick of sharp teeth teasing the shell. Fuck. That wasn’t helping. Cid felt himself go cross-eyed. Okay, he needed to think of something. What was that story Tifa told him about? Cloud in a dress? The image presented itself immediately. Nope, that did not have the desired effect. He was one the right path though. Barrett in a dress. There we go, but he could do one better. Heidegger in a tutu. Perfect, now he just had to focus on that instead of the blazing inferno that was Vincent surrounding him. The idea of the Shinra Exec pirouetting in a frilly skirt was as disgusting as it was comical. Cid chuckled indulgently only to hear Vincent hiss beneath him. Venomous as a snake.

“Is there something about this you find – ah…funny Highwind?” Vincent’s breath was punched out of him with a particularly strong thrust but his words still dripped malice. The lethal tone enough to instill a terror in Cid that…yep. That did the trick, even better than Heidegger in a tutu. Sure, the Ex-Turk was undeniably appealing when he was angry, but that voice was whispered death. The idea that if he kept that up he may end up with his insides and outsides flipped flopped was enough to dull his tingling nerves with fear. He’d rather not end up with that kind of demon in his bed. The thought of Hellmasker’s rattling breath creeping down his neck or Death Gigas’ cold undead flesh beneath him was traumatizing. Or Chaos’s world-ending stare, there was nothing more horrifying. So with that in mind Cid knew he needed to step it up, and convince his partner he was not insulting his performance. Far from it. 

“Yeah Val.” Cid grunted in effort, snapping his hips just so. “There is – ugh - I just don’t get how a sorry sack like me got so damn lucky. I mean – fuck -just look at you…taking me so well.” Two, three, four, he shifted to the left and pressed Vincent down a little further. Then farther still, he had to be close. Eight, nine and – whatever Vincent start to reply with left his mouth in a scream that sounded an awful like Cid’s name. Found it.

Sound the fanfare, victory tasted sweet on Cid’s tongue. Almost as sweet as Vincent though hardly as addicting. He was so close to a complete success but it was too early to celebrate yet.

Never had he felt so in control of his body as he stuck to the angle viciously. The pleasure zapping down his spine like electricity was a distant roar in the back of his mind by pure focus alone. To get there he had shoved Vincent’s head down into the pillows once more. The silken fabric swallowing down moans and half-formed words as the Ex-Turk was driven past the point of coherency. His face and shaking left arm holding him up as his right hand shot up to his chest. Fingers twining with Cid’s own over his heart and constricting into a death grip. Like it was the only place he was anchored to reality. Beneath it Cid could feel the duality between the thunder of his heart beat and the excited thrum of the pulse trapped in the wrist that pinned his own. Bet he couldn’t grab his gun in time now, and fuck that power was heady. He was well aware that this would be the only time he’d have the upper hand. Best to revel in it while he could.

“Close-” Vincent managed, breathless and wavering, barely able to lift his chin to speak. Oh Ancients, was he going to come on his cock alone? Cid sent up a silent ‘thank you’ to all the gods he didn’t believe in. Another thrust shook him and Vincent sobbed, “Cid, _fuck_ -”

He wasn’t ready for this to be over, not yet.

“Wait.” He whispered, stopping himself and pressing a kiss the back of Vincent’s damp neck. Now this would have been certain death if the gunman wasn’t so close to the edge and he knew he was being greedy once again, but goddamn it. His birthday only came once a year and he was allowed at least one more request. How many was it this point? He’d lost count. Figured he was allowed at least one for every year and Cid was getting up there. Poor Vincent had to bear the brunt of them but fortunately he was too far gone to stop him now. He reluctantly pried their intertwined hands away from Vincent’s chest and pulled him onto his back. The Ex-Turk barely resisted, his limbs loose as jelly, other than a protesting whine when Cid pulled out. 

“I want to see you.” Cid explained, when sharp nails dug into his wrist in warning. Like he had just caught on to what he was being deprived of. Moments after the fact, his brain too flooded with pleasure to keep up.

Blown out crimson eyes widened at the words and why hadn’t Cid thought of this sooner? This was…there weren’t words. His rudimentary dabble into poetry left him as quickly as his breath. Silky waves spilled across the sheets, pale cheeks stained with a feverish flush, and eyes so dilated his irises were only a glowing halo of red. This was for him? Better than any gift he’d ever been given, brighter than the stars themselves. He stared down, unmoving, just as charmed as he had been the first time he saw Vincent’s full face.

“Cid,” he panted, his voice a desperate rattle that broke the pilot out of his reverie, “please.”

“Yeah, I’ve got you.” Cid pressed back in, growling at Vincent’s resulting gasp. “Fuck, Vincent.” He hissed as he picked back up again. This time deepening his thrusts, his pace slower but more intentional. It felt like he was having an out of body experience as he deftly pushed one of the gunman’s legs up and struck gold first try. His body already learning Vincent’s inside and out. The Ex-Turk thrashed beneath him, trying to throw his head back but Cid held him fast. Quickly using his other hand to grab Vincent’s neck and keep their eyes locked. Once again he felt the pulse under his palm begin to pick up, buzzing eagerly underneath his fingertips. Each of Vincent’s heaving breaths felt like they were being pulled directly from Cid’s own throat. They were so close, too close but Cid didn’t want to miss a thing. The room dissolved around him and suddenly it was just Vincent under him, squeezing him so tightly, as he fell into his eyes. The only sounds in the room the wet collision of their bodies and their gasps for breath that grew steadily more and more haggard. Cid’s own throat burning with each pant that he thought might be his last until he heard it, Vincent’s breath stutter to a stop. He cried out as he surged up, bit down mindlessly into Cid’s shoulder and spilled between them. His arms yanking the pilot down flush against him with the strength of iron.

Cid slowed and held him through the aftershocks, Vincent trembling against him, his heart hammering. His shoulder burned, but it was a sweet sort of pain. A moment passed, then another before Vincent’s breathing steadied and he planted a soft kiss over the bite before leaning up to sigh in Cid’s ear. “Come on, fuck me.” Then he grabbed Cid’s ass meaningfully and twined long legs around his waist. Grinding against the still hard brand inside him with a moan.

“Fuck.” Cid cursed, blood running scorching hot. His forgotten erection making its presence very known with those seductively uttered words. He’d rarely heard the gunman use that sort of language before, most of the instances confined to this very evening. “ _Vincent_.” He groaned, picking up again and gripping the headboard behind Vincent’s head to give himself more leverage. He knew the man had to be oversensitive but if the powerful thrusts were hurting him Vincent didn’t show it. Instead he groaned at the punishing pace and pulled Cid in for a kiss, his breath hitching sinfully every time Cid bottomed out. When it began too much Cid broke away to bury his head in Vincent’s throat. Just in time to feel the press of Vincent’s lips against the shell of his ear once more.

“Give it to me Chief.” He whispered, like he knew exactly what the nickname did to him. He’d probably always known. Damn tease.

Cid saw stars for the second time in his life as he roared his release into Vincent’s neck. It felt like a century before he could lift his neck, his pulse a thundering wave that he was sure the Ex-Turk could hear. Shit, it was so loud Cid felt like he could taste it. They kissed slowly for a moment, though Cid barely had the energy and Vincent had to lead. The former chuckling softly into his lips at the pilot’s sudden ineptitude. He felt drained, like holding himself back had made his release so powerful that it had siphoned off all the liquid in his body. He pulled out and collapsed on the Ex-Turk below him with little remorse, he knew Vincent could take it. He’d once seen the man shrug off being thrown through a wall like it was a minor inconvenience. “You shut your damn mouth.” He mumbled as Vincent’s soft laughter continued beneath him. “Your damn filthy mouth.”

He had tried to sound mad about it but it was impossible to hide the happiness in his voice. There was something brand new and light in that quiet laughter. Like some heavy weight had been lifted from Vincent’s chest and he allowed to laugh again. In that moment Cid knew he had never known true victory, not like this. There wasn’t any fanfare, instead it was humbling. A reminder of something about himself that he often took for granted. It was also more joyful than Cid was sure he could take without bursting into ugly old-man sobs. No one wanted to witness that. Not even an Ex-Turk that he was beginning to actually believe might like him enough to hold him through it.

“So that was all it took? I thought you were never going to blow Highwind. You must really enjoy that title. I’m not going to think of all the times I’ve heard it used previously, the context it was under.” Vincent mumbled from beneath Cid’s deadweight above him. The pilot had ceased moving a few seconds ago. Comfy and convinced that he could probably just fall asleep like this. Also beginning to think that if the Ex-Turk kept up on that train of thought he wouldn’t feel bad about squishing him.

Cid grumbled inarticulately in respnse, still too tired to form words.

“Wait, am I remembering correctly that even Marlene calls you that?” Vincent’s voice was a sly whisper.

“Goddamn it Vincent! It’s only when you call me that!” Cid sat up with roar, all his muscles protesting. He was awake now, that was for sure. “Don’t play stupid, you’re too smart for that.” Still not eloquent though. “Pretty sure she picked up the damn nickname from you anyways.”

“She might have. Glad to see you’re still alive Chief.” Vincent gave him a grin that was more than just a tilt of his lips. This one had grown teeth and made Cid’s heart beat trip in its rhythm.

“I just wanted you to come first. Didn’t think I’d end up getting teased for it.” He mumbled irritably. Maybe he hadn’t considered the repercussions of holding out so long? So shoot him. Actually scratch that, please don’t. He was pretty damn fond of life right now and had no intentions of quitting it. “And you told me I talked too much. Which speaking of, you’re awfully chatty all of the sudden Valentine. I’m not sure how I’m feeling about that right now.” Cid reluctantly rolled off him, but wrapped an arm around his waist for good measure. Digging in his nightstand for a moment with the other before lighting a cigarette. He stifled a yawn after his first exhale. “You talking so much. Makes me second guess my performance.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m speaking as much as I normally do if you’d bother to listen.” Vincent pulled away from him, sliding out of his grasp to perch on the edge of the bed and wave smoke away from his face.

Cid threw his lighter at him, and the bastard had the audacity to catch it out of the air with a raised eyebrow and wry look. He turned his gaze down to the metal contraption contemplatively. “I don’t think I’ll give this back. Smoking is terrible for you.” Cid sat up quickly, a hundred protests at his lips but Vincent continued. “Your performance wasn’t lacking, I just recover quicker than old men up far past their bedtime. Is that why you like cake better, because it’s less work?” His red eyes danced with mirth and Cid was speechless for a solid five seconds. Now that was a new record.

“Did you- was that a damn joke?” Cid stammered. Was this the same person he sat on top Seventh Heaven with? Had he somehow fucked him screwy? “Because making fun of old people when you’re twice their age ain’t funny.”

Vincent muffled his quiet laughter behind his palm, placing the lighter back on the nightstand despite his earlier threat. “I didn’t mean to upset your delicate sensibilities. I’d apologize but I’m afraid it’s not allowed.”

“Don’t you dare Valentine!” He growled, hugging a pillow in lieu of Vincent as he glowered up at him. It wasn’t nearly as warm, he wanted his human pillow back. Well…his mostly-human pillow. 

The pilot watched him shake his head with a sigh. He was so pretty sitting there in the blue-filtered light from Cid’s table side lamp, naked and glistening. He wished it was all better but despite the earlier teasing and the easy flow of the gunman’s words it was still there, that tension. Like he still didn’t fit right in his own skin. Cid could see it in the way he was still trying surreptitiously to hide his expression with his hand in lieu of the cloak and to hide his body as he sat angled away. As if Cid hadn’t already seen everything and taken a glimpse deep inside. Like he might somehow forget.

Looked like Cid still had his work cut out for him. Good thing he thrived on a challenge, lived for impossible odds. When you were a pilot, an engineer, it was just in your nature.

“Hey.” Cid said seriously as he put out his cigarette with a hiss. Red eyes tracked back to him at the tone in his voice. “Don’t get too big a head but I think I’m gonna have to admit I was wrong. That was a helluva lot better than any damn cake. I think you’ve ruined me for life.”

Vincent’s lips curled into a small smile before he lifted himself from the bed and Cid’s heart stuttered. Where did he go wrong? “Hey! Please don’t go.” He protested desperately, reaching out to grab the Ex-Turk’s arm and saw Vincent flinch at the raw emotion in his voice.

“I’m not going anywhere. I just want to clean off.” He reasoned, leaning down to press a kiss to Cid’s brow before trying to pull away again. Not noticing that Cid’s right hand was already a manacle around his forearm and his left hand had crept into the perfect grabbing formation when the Ex-Turk leaned over. 

“No ya aren’t!” Cid growled as he sprung his trap.

He must have forgotten that Cid was a stubborn fucking bastard leaving an opening like that. Still it was only by the grace of chance that the pilot got the drop on him, grabbing him by the crook of the arm and around the shoulders before tugging him back onto the bed. A moment of sweaty and confused wrestling ensued. Not that kind of wrestling, of course. There was no way in holy hell he’d be able to make that happen again tonight. Tomorrow, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. The possibilities were endless if he could just get the damn Ex-Turk to _stay_. Instead this was more the kind of wrestling that involved Cid trying to take advantage of Vincent’s momentary surprise to get a good hold on him. Wrapping his arms and legs around the gunman like an octopus with separation anxiety whilst getting a lot of bony elbows to the face and ribs.

“Stop fightin’ me you slippery bastard!” He laughed as he dodged an elbow to the stomach and wrapped one of his arms around Vincent’s chest while the other trailed up ribs hoping to find ticklish locations in an unfair move. He felt the skin under his fingertips twitch and heard a low growl of warning. Choosing not to fear the warning in that growl he locked his legs more tightly around Vincent’s waist. Not realizing his mistake until Vincent rolled them and made up for his earlier miss by elbowing Cid directly in the face.

Eventually they both ended up sprawled across the sheets. Cid surprisingly victorious once again with Vincent trapped and panting lightly against him. He held no illusions that it had been a fair fight. The gunman had given up half way, after only a moment or two of violent confusion, and let Cid drag him in like a giant ghoulish teddy bear. Sighing as if he wasn’t being held by Cid but rather snuggled by a singularly obnoxious child.

“Stay.” Cid smacked his lips in a yawn again. “Listen to your Captain. This is for your own good.” He wondered if he’d have a black eye in the morning. If Vincent would feel bad about it. He really hoped he wouldn’t, the fight had been entirely his fault after all. 

“I’m sticky with sweat now among other things...” Vincent protested even as he settled with a stretch, “I will never be able to sleep like this.”

“Thought you didn’t need t’ sleep.” Cid’s exhausted mumble was met with an exasperated sigh. So he grabbed his shirt from the floor and used it to clean off Vincent’s stomach and thighs. It’s what a gentleman would do after all. As an afterthought he pressed another kiss to downturned lips, satisfied when they relaxed as he pulled away.

Small victories. That would be his strategy. It was all this had been in the end. Nothing like fixing an airship. Vincent wasn’t a machine. Nor was it something akin to an epic quest. There was no big bad to fight, no Planet to save. Vincent was a person, he was more intricate than that rudimentary saving the world shit. Each time he won against one of his demons, each time Cid helped him do it, it was only filling in one crack in the network of veins that made up the shatter through his heart. Life wore down on them all but on some exceptionally great individuals it seemed to lean a little harder. Forcing them down further, trying to smother their greatness. Cid could be a shield, a wrench, a bonding agent. He was entirely malleable so long as it allowed Vincent to stand tall a little longer. Glow a little brighter. Share more of those small smiles and quiet laughs with him. Live to protect the Planet as surely as Cloud and Aerith did. It was all Cid needed to be happy.

“Stay.” He repeated, feeling his mind slip under as Vincent’s nails scratched gently against his scalp. His brain not quite processing the words falling out of his own mouth before he continued. “Don’t ever leave again.”

Now that was a risky thing to say. Why was he so goddamn clingy when he was half-asleep?

“Please don’t ask that of me. You know I can’t promise you that.”

He drifted into weightless oblivion, only barely catching Vincent’s response. Scarcely feeling the hurt it caused. Still a slow moving sadness set into his mind in shades of blue, like the colors of his lamp washing Vincent’s partially shielded form. A rapidly disappearing picture that he tried to cling to. But it was there and present even with him too far gone to think of anything but how far he still had to go. The road stretched out long and daunting before him. A promise of adventure and pain in equal measures.

He had thought that with the launch he had done it. Gone further than humanity ever had before. A pinnacle of achievement with which nothing would ever be the same. No victory would ever be as satisfying, the rest of his life washed in the bittersweet grey of mediocrity. He was wrong. Life kept surprising him with new challenges and greater peaks. Sometimes it was the brilliant flash of faith enveloping the Planet, sometimes it was the unconditional support of his friends, sometimes it was the steady heartbeat of the person lying next to him. Still living despite impossible odds. The highest heights, the steepest summits, the distant stars; they all ended in love. Plain and simple. Funny how long it had taken him to realize that. 

“But I’ll stay as long as I can.”

Cid sighed in relief. Thank the Planet for small victories. It was all he could really count on, being who he was. The sort of fool who endlessly chased destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> While I've been writing for years now this is my first time actually publishing one of my pieces. Please send me any critiques and comments if you can spare the time!
> 
> Also I apologize for the bittersweet end but rest assured a sequel is already in the works.


End file.
